A Veela's intrigue
by Unavoidablechinmove
Summary: Fleur came to Hogwarts to compete in the Triwizard tournament. Her mind was filled with expectations of glory and honour, instead she finds a messy haired student by the name of Harry, who is different to every other student in the derelict school. A Veela's curiosity is a dangerous beast and Fleur's demands that it is sated.
1. Chapter 1

"Stupid castle" Fleur muttered as she traversed the dark, lonely corridor. The blonde Veela was in a horrid mood, she had arrived at Hogwarts with the rest of her school with the expectation that she would compete in the Triwizard Tournament. The Frenchwoman threw aside the idea that her fellow students would steal such an opportunity, no she was stronger, faster with a wand, blessed with the gifts of a Veela and a prodigy with charms.

But Fleur had gotten ahead of herself.

Ignoring where the rest of the Beauxbaton students had gone Fleur had stumbled her own way into the decrepit castle and had gotten lost. Even now she shivered from the cold air that coursed through the stone hallways, her silk uniform useless against such chilling breezes. Fleur did consider backtracking and returning to the carriage, but such an act was unacceptable when there was the chance the school champions would be chosen tonight. With a stubborn resolve the Veela pushed onwards, ignoring the bone scratching creaks and clangs of the suits of armour that lined the hall.

Wiping her wand out Fleur cast a whispered "Lumos", the tip of her wand glowing with a bright comforting light that illuminated the steadily darkening hallways. With such light the Veela was greeted by the sight of several doors to her side, it was a school after all and so the Veela doubted there would be anyone in these classrooms when there was a supposed feast.

Nevertheless Fleur was surprised by the sound of faint coughing echoing from one of the oak doors. Intrigued the Veela approached the door and pushed it open. The inside of the room was bland, the typical wooden tables and chairs, a lone desk affixed to the front of the room for the professor and a half dozen open windows that shone through with the dying sun. However Fleur wasn't interested in the shoddy decal of a Hogwarts classroom, instead her eyes fell on a slumped over figure standing next to the Professor's desk, a bag sitting atop its surface.

"Hello?" Fleur called out, her wand being held out in a reflexed manner.

The figure's back straightened up and turned to face the Veela, the Frenchwoman quickly releasing it was as Hogwarts student, his buttoned shirt and tie giving it away immediately. Though his pale face and bright green eyes captured Fleur's attention, he did not look well.

"Uh hi" the student responded with a croaky voice, his left hand wiping against his trouser leg.

"I am sorry to disturb, but I believe I am lost, could you show me the way back to your feasting hall?" Fleur asked patiently, waiting for the boy's focus to disappear as her Veela magic ensnared his mind, it wasn't something she had great control over, but Fleur was beyond caring about its effects as it was something she had simply grown to accept.

The student looked at Fleur for a moment, his expression guarded before he shrugged, "sure, I'm getting hungry anyway". The boy then went about retrieving his bag, flinging it across his shoulder before walking towards the door. Fleur was thrown off when she assumed he wanted to leave, when in fact he grabbed something from the other side of the door, his robe. Only when this long black fabric was wrapped around him did the student look to Fleur.

"Are you coming?" he questioned as he walked out the door, his hands in his pockets.

Dumbly the Veela followed, the shock of the boy's resistant to her allure hadn't worn off. Only one other male had ever ignored it, her Father, who would never feel it's affects.

Thankfully Fleur's feet were able to function whilst her surprise subsided. In truth it shouldn't have affected Fleur so harshly, it wasn't impossible for men to be immune to Veela, it just was so unlikely. They were beyond rare.

"So what school are you from?" The boy asked as he led Fleur through the winding lanes of the castle.

"Beauxbaton" Fleur responded mechanically, before if she was talking to a male she didn't care how she sounded because they would never be offended, now she had to pay attention to how she spoke!

"Huh, French" he muttered to himself, silence quickly falling on the pair. Fleur didn't mind however as she tried so desperately to think of something to say, but nothing could come to her.

Eventually the seemingly endless hallways of the silly castle came to a stop as Fleur followed Harry through a door and into the largest stairwell she had ever seen. To top it off flights of stairs flew past, all of them falling in line with certain ascensions and descents.

"Now we wait" the boy told her as he stood infront of the stonework that stopped students from falling to their deaths, soon he rested both hands on the cold stone, his breathing becoming increasingly audible.

"Are you well?" Fleur asked, her hesitation evaporating at the sudden signs of poor health the boy was displaying.

"I'm fine" he responded in an unconvincing fashion before his head was bent forward and he coughed painfully into his hand.

Fleur frowned at the display, the boy in front of her was obviously not well, but she dared not pry into the inner workings of the person who was guiding her.

"Ah Harry!" a friendly voice called out, turning the Veela's attention away from the coughing boy and towards a floating ghost hovering above them. Fleur jumped a little at the sight but her guide didn't seem so surprised.

"Hey Nick" the boy called back, responding to the name of Harry.

The ghost floated down to the pair, his outfit was despairingly old and to Fleur's eyes, hideous.

"I see you've found yourself a new friend" Nick said with enthusiasm, "but whatever are you doing here? The feast has just started".

Irritation flashed across Fleur's face, she couldn't be late, what if the champions were chosen tonight? What if Madame Maxime found out she had gotten lost?

"I'd love to be eating Nick, but you know how these blasted stairs act, they're never helpful" Harry groaned, sharing at least some of Fleur's ghost looked down at the two student's plight with understanding, "well, I shouldn't really be telling you this Harry, but if you kick the stone pillar you're leaning on I think the stairs will get the message" With that the ghost called Nick floated off, his hands touching his neck consciously.

"They allow ghosts to live in a place of learning?" Fleur questioned critically, watching as the younger student followed the dead man's advice.

"Nick hasn't harmed anyone, I mean most of the ghosts are harmless" Harry responded, kicking the pillar.

"It cannot be hygienic" the Veela muttered.

"Does it matter? You don't learn here" Harry replied.

Fleur's retort was swallowed by the arrival of the stone bridge that ascended into place. The Veela eyed the magical staircase suspiciously, waiting for it to move again, yet it remained and Harry took the lead in crossing. Wanting to avoid being left behind Fleur followed closely, her eyes glimpsing a dash of scarlet on the boy's hands.

"What is that on your hand?" Fleur commented curiously.

"Nothing, you're eyes are probably playing tricks on you" Harry stated, a twinge of annoyance coating his words, his accused hand wiping against his robe as he went.

"You shouldn't tell lies" Fleur scowled, her temper rising hotly at the young boy's attempt to dissuade her thinking.

"I know, that's why I wasn't lying" Harry quipped dryly

The blonde Veela fumed silently at the sheer audacity emanating from the boy in front of her. Simply put, no one had ever spoken to her with such harshness before, the others who had spoken to her were either enthralled or didn't wish to draw her anger.

Thankfully Fleur found the restraint to avoid letting loose a stream of shallow insults towards her short guide, instead she focused on the stone steps that climbed upwards, hopefully towards the hall where the rest of her school had gone.

This wish seemed to come true as when the blonde Veela and the boy named Harry had finished their ascent they reached a platform that overlooked the grand stairway they had climbed. Ahead from this stony plateau was a courtyard of sorts, a large door tempting Fleur forwards. Lining the walls that stood beside the door were more suits of empty yet shining armour. Above all of this however were four banners that hung in predestine condition. Although Fleur knew little of the school she was visiting, the Veela wasn't unaware of the four houses that were home to the students of Hogwarts.

"We're here" Harry announced with a crack to his voice, the Veela guessing his cough wasn't merely some common cold.

"Thank you Monsieur" Fleur replied, her desire to be within the warm light of the feasting hall growing with each second.

The short scruffy haired wizard nodded with understanding though he remained fixed to his spot next to the stair railing, his stance indicated he was less that eager to enter the hall ahead of them.

"Are you not coming, you said you were hungry?" Fleur questioned, her curiosity being piqued once more.

"You go on, I'll go in a minute" Harry said, his hand sticking out, gesturing that the Veela go as he had described.

Fleur looked at the boy for a passing moment before shrugging, this Harry had done what she had asked, she saw no further need to bother him. Rather, she preferred being away from the boy who was unaffected by her inherited abilities.

Not looking back the Veela pressed forward into the hall, crossing its threshold with several confident strides. Inside the hall Fleur found herself faced with an immediate problem, there was no sign of the Goblet of Fire.

Fleur bit her lip, Madame Maxime had drilled it in to her and the others heads that the Goblet of Fire was how the champions would be selected, if it wasn't there did it mean that Fleur had missed her opportunity? Shaking her head the Veela focused on what was in front of her, and that was several benches full of adolescent boys looking at her with lustful eyes.

The blonde witch scowled with disgust, her mind immediately thinking of the boy just a few feet behind her that had looked at her with human eyes, not ones of such depraved emotion that were taking in every inch of her form. Realising that standing about would only force more eyes upon her, Fleur walked over to the bench on her left, the large table was covered in a cloth adorned with a raven, even a few of the light blue uniforms of beauxbatons were sitting at this table. However its ranks were mostly filled up, only a sparse number of seats remained, forcing Fleur to sit near the back, away from the front of the hall.

"Oh hello" an airy voice said softly as Fleur sat down on the creaking bench.

Fleur's blue eyes looked towards the sound, finding a young dirty blonde girl sitting across from her, in her hands resided a newspaper, yet it was upside down. The Veela looked at the girl with a confused expression.

"It is the wrong way round" Fleur stated bluntly.

"I know" the girl replied simply, "its better this way".

"Is it's contents that horrible?" Fleur retorted, assuming that the newspaper held little of value in its words.

"Not really, my dad wrote it after all, its just better to read this way" the girl said, her voice remaining worryingly un-detached.

"Well I wouldn't want to disturb your reading then" Fleur grumbled all the while wondering if it would have been better to stay standing.

"You aren't, are you one of the students from beauxbatons?" the girl said.

"Oui" Fleur stated before she pushed forth her own question, "have the champions been chosen?"

"No I think we're just eating" the girl replied, "though I doubt you'll be able to get anything, the Elves would have finished giving out all the food".

Fleur let out another sigh, she had been so worried, so pent up for nothing and from the sounds of it she wouldn't be eating in the so called feasting hall. At the mere thought of food the Veela's stomach growled, annoyed by such a statement.

"If you're really hungry you could try and see if there's any food left on the other tables?" the girl suggested, her eyes floating over to look at Fleur's, the Veela shivering ever so slightly at the sheer lack of focus within the girl's empty eyes.

"I think I will" Fleur muttered before she stood from the wooden table and turned around, a few head bobbing up to look at the Veela once more. Swallowing her irritation Fleur cross the dividing gap between the raven crested table to the one to the right of it. As she closed in on the neighbouring table Fleur caught the tail end of an intriguing conversation, one that contained a familiar voice.

"Really Harry you should go to the medical wing, you know what Madam Pomfrey told you" a strong willed, feminine voice argued.

"Its a cough Hermione, one that isn't going away, I'll be fine" the receiver of said criticism retorted, the owner of the voice instantly recognised by the Veela as the one who had guided her only moments ago.

Fleur's eyes looked with intent for the blacked hair student, search proving successful as she found the scruffy haired boy, his back to her sitting with a ginger student, across from the pair sat a girl, her own hair containing a seemingly endless amount of brown curls and twists. Amongst the trio sat a plate, its contents untouched by those that surrounded it. Its make distinctly French. Bouillabaisse.

"Excuse me?" Fleur said, standing behind her previous guide, "are you eating that?"

The boy named Harry turned around to face the Veela, a hint of recognition flaring in his emerald eyes though besides that he did react to her arrival, unlike his lighter haired friend, whose mouth lay open with threads of saliva running down the side of his face.

Fleur grimaced in disgust and forced her attention back to Harry, his completion looking quite different considering how close the Veela stood to the boy. He was still pale, this defining detail had yet to change, but the vivid streaks that ran through his eyes fascinated the Veela, whose kind were enraptured by beauty. Different shades of green ranging from emeralds to bright pale yellows coalesced in his irises. It was a completely unique sight.

"Ronald you're drooling on the table!"

The shriek of the frazzled haired girl pulled Fleur back to reality, the Veela blinked several times as she watched Harry pull the plate closer before offering it to her.

"Take it, I'm not that hungry" he told her, ignoring the growing argument between the ginger and the brunette besides him.

"Are you sure?" Fleur questioned, unable to shake the feeling that something was wrong with the boy.

"Yes, here" Harry offered, pushing the plate further towards the Veela.

Fleur took the dish in both hands, offering the scruffy haired boy and appreciative glance, though not before she spoke to him, "you should listen to your friend, you do not look well".

Harry's face twitched slightly but his expression remained neutral for the most part. When the Veela was given no response she simply turned and walked away, her conscious appeased by her actions, though her ears did pick up a murmured phrase at the very reach of her hearing.

"Yeah I know".

The Veela continued moving, troubled by what the boy had muttered to himself, though it wouldn't have been right to confront him about what he had just said. She didn't know him, not enough to ask about such personal issues, nor was it her job to be concerned about a student from another school that she had just met.

Regardless of the logic that was running through her head, it didn't stop Fleur from putting her plate down on the table she had previously been sitting on, her appetite having vanished, her curiosity taking its place. The Veela looked to the detached blonde again, a question rip in her mind.

"Who that boy? His name is Harry" Fleur inquired, her thumb jabbing over her shoulder to the bench the boy in question was sitting at.

The younger girl lowered her newspaper, her eyebrows raised. "You mean Harry Potter?" she responded.

* * *

The feast ended in a way that didn't suit Fleur at all, the champions were not to be chosen that night, but the next. The rest of the information given out wasn't new to the Veela, there would be an age limit, contestants couldn't withdraw their names… At some point Fleur closed her ears to the ramblings of Albus Dumbledore, his voice proving more hypnotic than powerful, something that Fleur had excepted from the man who had faced more than one Dark Lord.

In fact the only new pieces of information she had gathered weren't even related to the tournament that Fleur desired to enter, but about the boy who had guided her to the hall. Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived.

Fleur wasn't an idiot, she knew of the baby who had killed off the Dark Lord, but she didn't think he would look so ill of health, was it an after effect of being hit with the killing curse? The girl Fleur had been talking to said otherwise.

"He didn't always look like that" she told the Veela, "he was thin I mean, but not so pale. Actually a lot changed for him after my first year here".

"Oh, what happened Luna?" Fleur inquired, having already been offered the girl's name, she hadn't asked.

"Something to do with a Basilisk, some students were petrified by it and the groundskeeper Hagrid and Dumbledore were taken away from Hogwarts. In the end Harry killed it, but it was weird" Luna explained before she abruptly stopped.

"In what way was it weird?" Fleur said persistently, annoyed with how spaced out the younger girl was.

"Well when Dumbledore told us about the Basilisk all the students had been cured, even Harry's friend Hermione had been de-petrified. But Harry didn't show up for the rest of the year. The next time I saw him was the year after, and that's when he started looking pale, some people say that he doesn't go to any lessons now as well" Luna told Fleur, the girl's attention floating back to her newspaper which now rested on the wooden surface of the table.

"I suppose that is strange, why would a student go to a school if he doesn't attend lessons, there would be no point coming, no?" Fleur muttered.

"He still does the exams" Luna added, "and I saw him a couple of times wandering the halls at the weekends, I don't think he's that happy".

"Why?" the Veela questioned.

At that point Luna just shrugged, "he never smiles".

Fleur left the great hall with the rest of her school's attaché that night with her mind filled with confusion when at the beginning of the day she had only worried about getting chosen by the Goblet of Fire. Why had Hogwarts played host to a Basilisk of all creatures? Why had the Boy who had survived a killing curse been allowed to wallow in such an unhealthy state? Fleur felt three parts intrigued and one part concerned.

Before Fleur climbed into the enlarged compartment that had been flown to Hogwarts by beauxbatons's Pegasuses a stern and thick hand pulled her back. The Veela had already reached into her pocket for her wand when her eyes fell on the large form of her headmistress.

"_Fleur why were you not with the rest of us when we entered the great hall?"_ Maxine asked in French, her voice filled with disappointment.

The Veela clenched her hands tightly, she knew that this small blunder would be picked up by the half-giantess, nothing got passed her easily. _"I… I got lost Headmistress"_ Fleur told her quietly, her head bowed in mock failure.

"_Hmm, see that this does not happen again, I would not wish for you to fail in your entrance as our champion, none of your peers can match your level of charms now can they?"_ the half-giantess asked rhetorically, her form leaning over the shorter Veela.

"_Of course Headmistress"_ Fleur responded, her irritation rising at the possibility that one of the other students could possibly be chosen. She and Maxime knew that her skills surpassed her peers, they had only been brought to fulfil one of the old traditions of the Tri-wizard tournament, that of inter school relations. What Maxime also knew about was Fleur's burning desire to prove herself superior, not that she hadn't already.

"_Very good, now go and rest. Tomorrow will be a very long day" _Maxime told her patronisingly, her smile filled with white teeth.

The Veela offered her Headmistress her own glaring smile before falling into the enlarged compartment, muttering the word "cow" under her breath as she went. Fleur rushed off to her own room, ignoring the conversations that were being had by her fellow students in the small common areas that littered the magically expanded compartment. This was another thing that raised the Veela's ire, Maxime had purposely chosen students for the tournament that Fleur either didn't get along with, or she just didn't know. None of her friends had been able to come with her. The Veela guessed it was her Headmistress's way of ensuring that she would remained focused.

As soon as Fleur had reached her room she muttered a locking charm on the door, she had already fallen prey to other students trying to enter, she didn't desire any more interactions with them. With her door barred the Veela allowed her shoulders to fall, a hand reaching up to undo the ribbon in her hair. A sigh of relief leapt out of Fleur's mouth as she fell on her cot, her shoes being kicked from her feet. Fleur wanted to remain her position, her care for her uniform being thrown aside to fill her overburdening desire for sleep, yet the Veela sat back up with a groan, her curiosity remained piqued and she would be damned if a fourth year student would hold her interest any longer.

Fleur didn't go to bed until well past midnight, her focus remained fixed on the small collection of books that she had brought with her about Hogwarts. Of all of them the one her sister had rammed into her trunk at the last second about her favourite celebrity proved the most insightful. Fleur wondered if it was coincidence that Gabrielle's crush also happened to be the boy who held her intrigue.

Though regardless of whether it was fate's intervention or not the small book proved somewhat useful, titled "Harry Potter, the baby who saved Great Britain". It's author was English but Fleur's father had found a translator to transcribe a copy into French for his youngest daughter. The book listed just a few facts about Harry's parents, the most glaring being that they were both dead and that Harry had no other magical living relatives. Other than that there was little else used to describe Harry's family other than he had been living with his Aunt and Uncle, both muggles. These details proved hazy, mostly due to the fact the author had only written the book two years ago.

Eventually Fleur simply slammed the book closed, the majority of the book contained little more than speculations or exaggerated truths, there was no way Harry had fought the spectre of He Who Must Not Be Named in his first year, Fleur just rolled her eyes at such a farce.

The rest of the books she had skimmed over helped the Veela with her understanding of Hogwarts a little more, the names of the houses and their founders along with some small titbits about shortcuts and the layout of the castle. The location of the schools owlry soured Fleur's mood, if she wished to send a letter to her family there was more walking involved, an activity the Veela loathed.

In the dying minutes before Fleur collapsed on her bed she wrote out a letter to her Mother, hopefully Apolliene knew something that could help answer Fleur's curiosity about Harry Potter and why he seemed to be in such ill health. It did help that Fleur's mother was a healer after all.

After checking and then double checking her grammar, the Veela rolled up her parchment and retired herself to her bed, her uniform now tucked away neatly to be washed at a later date. Fleur's last few waking thoughts were surrounded by the scruffy haired boy and the tournament that had brought the Veela to the chilly castle in Scotland.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Hi all! **

**Hope you enjoyed the first chapter of this story, I can stay with more certainty that this story is meant to have more than one chapter, my previous fics were meant to either be one shots that spiraled out of control or remained one shots. **

**Regardless of this fact I'll try and upload a chapter every other week as I'm currently writing another long story as well. Depending on how I feel this story may get further fics to supplement the other books but as of now just assume this story will encompass the fourth year and nothing more. **

**Hopefully the pairing is obvious, but I would like to point out that I haven't attempted to write french accents in, I'd rather not offend an entire country so I'll leave such a trait out of this story. **

**Nothing much more to say really, reviews are greatly appreciated and if you have any dying questions my PMs are open.**

**Cya.**


	2. Chapter 2

Fleur awoke none too happy, her room was cold, she was tired and worst of all there was no House Elf free to aid her with her morning routine. Grumbling to herself the Veela slumped out of her bed, her wand being pointed about lazily as she slowly heated her room. With one inconvenience out of the way Fleur decided her lack of any energy had to be seen to next. Grabbing a fresh uniform from her wardrobe and running a rushed comb through her blonde hair, the Veela left her room, her locking charms recognising their creator without any need of removing them.

Although not an endless maze of rooms and small corridors, the Beauxbaton's carriage felt bigger than Fleur really desired, it took her over five minutes to reach the small, plain kitchen and a further few agonising seconds to create a half acceptable cup of coffee. All of which resulted in a concoction that did indeed awaken the French witch, yet left an unwanted sour tinge in her mouth. It was when she was returning her plain cup to the sink that that Fleur noticed the time on the clock hanging over the small kitchen that the Veela realised she had slept in. This small fact drew a frown from the French witch as she realised her plans for the day would have to be compressed.

All because she didn't have a house elf to awaken her.

Fleur rushed back to her room, all the while muttering English and French curses indiscriminately under her breath. Arriving back at her small room, the Veela went about grabbing her rolled up letter meant for her Mother and a thick coat from her wardrobe, she had been foolish enough yesterday evening to leave without it, she wasn't going to repeat her mistakes.

With her mind made Fleur locked her bedroom door and found her way out of the carriage, avoiding the wandering Beauxbaton students and blocking out their attempts to start any conversation.

Free from her 'fellow' students the Veela climbed up the unreasonably steep cliff that Hogwarts sat upon. As she walked the French witch balled her eyes as the cold biting winds cut through her clothing, leaving her breathless and irritated. This ire was only raised by the stares of lust and hazy eyes the Veela was greeted with when she crossed the rickety bridge that spanned the gap between the school and the adjacent cliff. Fleur schooled her face, channelling her frustration towards finding her way to the school's owlery. Thankfully her late night reading had left a small imprint within the Veela's mind and she knew the general direction she was meant to go.

The sound of hooting and the passing feathered bird also aided in matters.

Which was why within a few minutes the Veela was passing through one of Hogwarts's many hallways, the passage littered with only a few students, and to Fleur's sanity consisting of mainly girls. By talking to a couple of these students Fleur was guided just a little further to her goal. At least the fairer gender was as helpful on this side of the pond as it was in France.

Yet it seemed the boys were just as foolish.

Turning a corner, Fleur was faced by a trio of robed students, their robes lined with green and adorned with the symbol of a snake. The boy standing in the middle of the small grouping wore his near platinum hair slicked back, a condescending expression written on his face, his eyes holding back the base emotion that was now surging through his body as he took in her figure. Flanking this boy were what Fleur could only describe as half trolls, their faces swollen and brutish. Compared to the blonde boy, their uniforms were disastrous, their ties scruffily wrapped around their necks and their shirts barely tucked in.

"Hello there" the condescending looking boy said confidently, too confidently, "are you lost? Me and my acquaintances are more than happy to guide you through our school".

"No thank you" Fleur responded, shaking her head politely, her face remaining stoic.

This answer wasn't what the boy was expecting however.

"I must be miss-hearing you, you see my Father is Lucius Malfoy, you must of heard of him. The Malfoys are a prestigious family, one that you need as an ally" the boy stated arrogantly.

"If they were important then I would know of them, I do not" Fleur dismissed easily, "and I need no aid, I will manage by myself".

Satisfied with her answer, Fleur moved to walk around the trio.

"You're not going anywhere pretty lady" one of the half-trolls told her sluggishly as he moved to block her advance.

One of Fleur's eyebrow's shot up, she was finished with this conversation but it seemed the idiots in front of her were unaware of this.

"I shall say this once, little boys" Fleur told her small crowd in a quiet voice that couldn't be misinterpreted, "I am not interested. This display is only annoying me and if it continues I cannot be responsible for what follows".

The silence that followed sealed the Veela's course of action.

Reaching into her pocket Fleur drew her rosewood wand and pointed at the insufferable leader, "Petrificus Totalus" she said, flicking her wrist as she had been dully taught. Fleur repeated this action twice more, her eyes already used to the bright blue sparks that exploded from her wand's tip. Three thunks echoed through the hallway, signalling that Fleur was finally able to pass.

Fleur didn't even take any gratification when her foot just so happened to land on the blonde's stomach.

Well perhaps a little, she didn't show it.

With this small hurdle out of the way Fleur was able to exit the hall, leading out to a small courtyard which held the path out to the owlery tower, its sight now visible without the confining walls and roofs of the castle.

* * *

The smell of owl faecal matter wasn't the first thing that Fleur thought would remind her of home, yet when she entered the old tower the pungent smell sent the French witch back to pleasant summers spent at her family's summer home where a colony of owls found a home in a nearby abandoned farm. Fleur smiled at this memory, and how she always felt an affinity towards the mostly nocturnal creature.

Yet the owls that lived in the stone structure Fleur stood in were not nocturnal, they were all perched up, their glowing eyes leering down at the witch who had entered. Some of them perked their feathery chests out, awaiting the letter that Fleur had drawn out from her pocket. Again the witch's mouth curved upwards at the cute sight of the owls competing for her letter. But the Veela's eyes had already fallen on a specific owl, snow white and almost hiding out of sight from the rest of the owls by being perched near the top of the stairwell.

"_Hello there" _Fleur said softly in French to the owl who had caught her eye.

The owl responded by looking at her with intelligent eyes, clicking her beak once and then returning to pruning her feathers.

But the Veela was not undeterred, holding up the rolled up letter Fleur took a step closer, _"I have a letter I need delivering, it is very urgent and I think you're the fastest owl here for the job"_ she muttered to the owl.

Stroking the pride of an owl was a tactic that worked well regardless of the species, and the one in front of Fleur was no exception. Discarding its pruning, the owl looked attentively at Fleur, its legs twitch slightly before one of them shot out, beckoning for Fleur's letter.

_"Thank you"_ Fleur told the owl appreciatively as she tied her letter to the bird's leg with the loose bit of string that was already wrapped around its leg.

The owl blinked its clever eyes as it took in the letter attached to its leg, then looked to Fleur, a curious expression on its face signalling it didn't know where the letter was meant to go.

_"Silly me"_ Fleur admitted, _"France, the Delacour manor"._

With that the owl spread its wings and flapped upwards, circling around Fleur a few times, the Veela waiting for the bird to fly out the wide open windows that was featured around the tower. This however wasn't the white owl's aim, instead it fell, swooping out of the door that Fleur had entered in.

Surprised by this choice of exit, the witch followed the owl, finding a few white feathers falling to the ground as the owl sped into one of the hallways of Hogwarts. Simple curiosity turned to dread as Fleur's mind raced to one conclusion, the owl wasn't taking some weird route to France, rather it was taking her letter to someone in Hogwarts. Her heart began to pound on on the walls of her chest as she raced out of the owlery, desperate to at least keep her eyes on the fluttering creature that was making off with her correspondence.

Fleur sped through the old halls of Hogwarts, her attention focused squarely on errant owl, its wings beating at an almost leisurely pace. The Veela paid no heed to any onlookers or bystanders caught in her path, they either moved or were sidestepped. Up fights of stairs and around random bends and corners the Veela was led, her sense of direction being seemingly thrown away in the pursuit of her letter.

Eventually however, the owl began to slow down, its wings remaining steady instead of flapping. The small bird flew into a classroom, its door held ajar. Fleur by this time had stopped running, having already developed a stitch in her side and her concern for her letter's destination having diminished, for now she was more curious as to why the owl had ignored her commands.

The French witch stepped into the open classroom, her eyes landing on a familiar sight.

Standing at the front of the classroom was the boy who had guided Fleur the night before, Harry potter.

His uniform again was in a messy state, no effort had been made to tuck his shirt in, his sleeves were haphazardly rolled up passed his elbows and his hair looked as wild as it had when Fleur had last seen him. However, perched on his raised arm was the owl that Fleur had been searching for, and currently its small feathery chest was being stroked gently by the wizard it sat upon.

"There you are" Fleur said, her voice filled with veiled anger.

The white owl's head turned around, no guilt was on display in its clever eyes, in fact the owl looked as though it was amused by what it had done.

"Umm… hi?" Harry said awkwardly, a faint hint of recognition streaking through his words as his eyes looked to his latest guest.

"Not you, that owl" Fleur remarked, watching the owl vigilantly to make sure it didn't fly off once more.

"Hedwig?" Harry muttered with confusion before he sighed, his eyes landing on the letter wrapped to the animal's leg, "you're not supposed to give me the letters girl, you're supposed to send them to their proper owners".

"She is your bird?" Fleur asked as she moved closer to the odd pair, intent on retrieving her letter, if only so she didn't have to write another one out again.

"Yeah, Hedwig has been my owl for as long as I've been a wizard" Harry responded fondly, his free hand moving to remove the letter wrapped to Hedwig's leg, "I'm guessing this is yours?" he asked, offering the letter back to the blonde witch, all the while holding the owl away from the item she had stolen.

"Oui" Fleur replied in a blunt, unamused manner, her hand reaching out and taking the letter from the young wizard. With the letter returned safely to her pocket, the French witch decided to push the subject of the misbehaving owl.

"She does this often? Is she not trained?" Fleur inquired stiffly, her hand moving to unbutton her thick coat as the heat and sweat from her abrupt run began to set in.

"Hedwig does this every time someone who isn't me gives her a letter, and I don't any amount of training with sort this issue out" Harry told her, a hint of repetition ladened in his words, he had explained this story before Fleur reckoned.

"She must like you then, to play favourite I mean" Fleur noted, her coat now folded and placed over one of her arms.

As if understanding her words, Hedwig jumped off the wizard's arm and onto his shoulder, her head rubbing lovingly against Harry's. The mere look of resignation on the wizard's face gave Fleur the answer she sought.

"It is sweet, for an owl" the Veela said, the faintest of smiles appearing on her face. Though it faded when she looked to the arm that the owl had been resting on, now raised to scratch at Hedwig's head it was if anything clearer. Wrapped around his right wrist was several layers of bandaging. It looked almost amateurish compared to the expertly wrapped bandages Fleur had seen when her Mother had put them on herself or Gabrielle, but Fleur was smart enough to hold her tongue on such a matter, even if it did bother her.

"So are you going to compete in the tournament?" Harry then asked, ignoring the strange looks he received from the Veela.

"Yes" Fleur nodded absent-mindedly, her eyes flickering over to the boy's forehead. There between the locks of hair was the lightning shaped scar, Fleur wondered how she hadn't noticed such a bizarre mark the first time she had seen him, but the boy's pale nature had been the feature that caught the Veela's sight.

This intent staring wasn't appreciated by Harry, whose vivid eyes flashed the Veela an annoyed glance. Not wishing to anger the boy who held her interest the Veela kept her eyes on Harry's, the sight proving to be a still pleasing endeavour, the boy's colourful orbs continuing to ensnare Fleur's attention.

"I did not know the boy who guided me last night was the boy who defeated Lord Voldemort" Fleur stated as she looked about the room she was in. The desks and chairs were piled up to the sides leaving the center barren and empty. With a few long strides Fleur had moved over to one of the chair piles and had placed her coat on top of it.

"Most people seem to notice when they see my forehead, sorry I guess" Harry answered, though he didn't sound very apologetic, rather his attention remained focused on his owl and not the Veela.

"I was not offended, merely surprised is all" Fleur replied, keeping her eyes on the boy, intent on pry something from him before he left, "though if I may be so bold Monsieur, could I ask why you congregate to classrooms and not your friends?"

A thin frown surfaced on the boy's face, his glasses falling down his nose as he did so. "I was just practising some magic, and last night I had permission to miss the feast if I wanted. I was planning on going back to my room when you arrived actually".

"You have special treatment then, why is that?" Fleur said, pushing the subject further. With each word she moved closer to the boy, she could feel the answer was in her reach and it would be hers.

"Why do you need to know Fleur? that is your name right?" Harry replied, standing his ground and correcting his spectacles.

The Veela stopped her advance, she had been under the assumption that Harry would have readily given her the answers she sought, only for her to forget her allure had no affect on him. He couldn't feel the urge to bow to her every whim just to please her. It wasn't something that Fleur was used to and it was throwing her off once again. Faced with no other option the Veela realised she would have to be kinder and less forward with her questions if she wanted any results.

"Fleur Delacour, as I said last night" the French witch stated, "and I asked out of curiosity, my little sister is an admirer of yours and I had thought to write to her about you. I suppose her fascination has rubbed off on me a little".

"Its a personal reason, hopefully your sister can understand" Harry told her in a dry manner, his voice still showing signs of a long term cough.

"Then it is my turn to apologies, I did not mean to pry so bluntly" Fleur offered, if only so she didn't burn the bridge before it had been built.

Harry shrugged, "apology accepted, so can I ask you a question?"

"It depends on what you ask and what I get out of it" Fleur retorted, her hands folding across her chest.

"Why does every boy in the school seem fixated on you, my friend Ron couldn't stop drooling on the table last night and no one seems to know why" Harry asked, his voice hesitant and his words chosen carefully.

"Perhaps they have good taste and you do not Monsieur Potter" Fleur jested, while in the back of her mind she was scolding herself, she shouldn't be playing with him nor be seen to be flirting. The mere idea of courting a boy who was younger than her and in such a state filled the Veela with disgust. Yet the witch dismissed these thoughts and instead waved her hand at Harry, signalling that she had been playing with him.

"I am a Veela Harry, surely you have heard of them? Our magic reaches out and ensnares the minds of men, only those who have a strong willpower are able to resist its pull" Fleur explained.

The young wizard nodded, "I've heard of Veelas, though I didn't know what they can really do".

"You can't know if you never ask" Fleur remarked, though she judged that from the way the conversation was flowing that she wouldn't be getting any of the answers she sought today.

"Forgive me Harry but I must go, if I am to put my name into the fire I need to send this letter off now" Fleur said as she went to retrieve her coat. When she turned to face the young wizard she could see he was contemplating an idea, one that he appeared to act on when he next spoke.

"Maybe I can help" Harry offered, taking Hedwig down from his shoulder and holding his hand out, "If I give Hedwig your letter she should deliver it properly, hopefully".

"Are you sure? I wouldn't wish to impose" Fleur questioned, though really the wizard's offer wasn't something she wanted to turn down.

"Second times the charm" Harry shrugged, his hand remaining out to take the letter.

Pleasantly surprised Fleur took her letter out of her pocket again and handed it to Harry, watching as he offered the letter to the owl's mouth instead of tying it to her leg. Hedwig took the folded letter with no hesitancy and leapt of her master's arm and out of one of the open classroom windows.

"Guess she knows where to go" Harry muttered to himself, a crooked smile being offered to the Veela in a timid manner.

"And who will she return it to?" Fleur asked.

"If she gives it to me then I'll send it over to you" Harry responded, "I won't read it, don't worry".

"I will hold you to your word Harry" Fleur said sweetly, noting how the boy was unable to keep eye contact with her when she said his name. With this small tidbit stored away Fleur turned to leave the classroom before realising she didn't know where she was in the school, again.

"Follow the corridor to your left, it'll lead to the grand staircase" Harry's voice rang out from behind her.

The Veela looked back to the wizard, "am I that blatantly lost?" she questioned.

"Just a little" Harry conceded.

* * *

With Harry's intervention Fleur was able to make it to the great hall with time to spare. Her name deposited in the Goblet of Fire the Veela was half tempted to return to the classroom that the young wizard was remaining in, but rather than push her luck the Veela took to exploring the castle, all while staying conscious of the time and where she was.

This exploration was well spent, her brief travels led Fleur to the castle's library, a dusty catacombs of books and an old hag who called herself the Matron, though Fleur thought her a well hidden ghost that needed removing from the castle. Regardless of this small detail Fleur was happier to have found a place to study and read without worrying about being disturbed, no one seemed to care about utilising the library's books. Fleur wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth after all.

With such a discovery Fleur returned to the great hall several hours later happier than she had been at the beginning of the day, though she was forced to sit at the front of the Ravenclaw table, the dead set glare Madame Maxime gave her left no quarter. Nevertheless Fleur kept her head down, eating away at her meal as the feast waned and slowly flowed towards the naming choosing ceremony.

When the plates of food and goblets of drink disappeared the Veela took this as the sign that the time was now approaching.

"I estimate the goblet needs only a minute longer to make up its mind" Dumbledore said to the entire hall, the respective heads of the other schools standing with him. Students from across the tables began to whisper and gossip. From what Fleur could hear they were all tossing names about for who could be the champions. Even though she remained reserved, a knot of doubt began to twist within the Veela's chest, what if she wasn't chosen?

The long bearded headmaster of Hogwarts then indicated where the champions were meant to go, a door behind the staff table being leered at by the collective student body. Fleur simply watched the flickering tongues of bright light spewing forth from the goblet. With each passing moments the flames grew in intensity and volume.

A wave of Dumbledore's wand silenced the floating candles that illuminated the hall, leaving only the Goblet of fire. Within moments the fire turned a crimson red and spat out a thin column of heat, a charred piece of parchment. Dumbledore reached out deftly and caught the damaged fragment of paper, his hand remaining near the flame so that he could read what was written on it.

"The champion for Durmstrang will be Victor Krum!" the grand wizard proclaimed, his voice neutral unlike the bellows of joy that emanated from the Slytherin table as the famous seeker rose from its ranks and marched towards the head table, the Durmstrang head yelling his praise.

The jubilation of the room was muted once more as the fires from the goblet returned to a red hue and a further name was spat out, Dumbledore again inspecting the document before lowering it and speaking.

"The champion for Beauxbaton..." Dumbledore began, his half moon spectacles twinkling at the Veela for less than a second. The knot in Fleur's stomach rose to her throat, she felt like she couldn't breathe. "Is Fleur Delacour!" the wizard finished.

Fleur's face exploded into a prideful smirk, one that was shared by her headmistress. The Veela stood from the table, ignoring the faint sobs that could only be her fellow students who had failed to earn the prestigious spot she now occupied. With grace that no mere wizard or witch could ever possess, the French witch strode to the door behind the staff table, her feeling of pride and dominance surging forth. She knew that the boys from all the schools were looking at her, but their hazy eyes didn't annoy her, this was Fleur's time and she wouldn't let anyone ruin it.

The room that Fleur entered was vastly smaller, the walls lined with animated pictures of wizards and witches who were all nattering away. A single fireplace sat at the end of the room which was where the French witch found the Durmstrang champion, his arm resting above the fire whilst he seemed to be affixed by its simple colouration.

The Veela made no attempts at conversation, her own mind partially dazed by what had occurred, yet even still the smile on her face would not be banished.

An agonising long minute passed before the Veela and the seeker were joined by the third champion. He was tall, a youth innocent expression resting on his face. When he entered the room his eyes fell into the typical lack of focus that would occur when a boy looked at Fleur, but to his merit he looked away. Fleur could only nod to herself. The boy had another, the look of faint guilt however said it all. If Fleur had pushed for it he would have forgotten about her in an instant.

Fleur remained by a small empty part of the wall, her back leaning against it whilst Krum remained looking at the fire. The Hogwarts champion took to talking to one of the portraits.

In the distance the sounds of cheering and joy fell to an abrupt end, almost cut off. Seconds passed into minutes as the trio awaited the instructions they were meant to receive. Frustration quickly seeped into Fleur's mood, what was taking so long?

Eventually two men walked into the room, quickly followed by Madame Maxime and the Drumstrang head. Maxime's face was a deep red and Karkaroff looked deeply troubled.

"What has happened?" Fleur asked first, something had changed and it wasn't planned.

"Dumbledore cheated" Maxime said furiously, "there is another champion!"

"Hang on for just a moment Maxime" one of the two men earnestly, trying to calm the half giantess down "we all saw Dumbledore's expression, I don't think he knew what was going on either".

"Be silent Ludo" Karkaroff growled, "this would not be the first time Dumbledore has fooled the people around him".

"Be that as it may Karkaroff, it isn't the politest act to talk foul of the man who is your host" a calm voice interrupted, his voice dragging everyone's eyes to the source of the tranquil tone.

There standing at the room's entrance and exit was Dumbledore, he wasn't smiling yet he didn't appeared angered. The old wizard seemed to glide into the room.

"The newest of champions will be here shortly, Minerva is retrieving him. After that we can decide what will be done" Dumbledore told the room. The other heads nodded reluctantly, with Karkaroff pulling Krum close for a quiet, intense discussion. Maxime walked over to Fleur, her large hand grasping the Veela's shoulder.

"It doesn't matter how many champions Hogwarts has" the half-giantess whispered, "you will beat them all".

Fleur nodded in agreement.

For what it was worth time passed quickly enough for the Veela, fast enough that when Fleur looked back over to the entrance she saw an old witch, her hair streaked with grey and her face filled with stress and worry. One of her hands was pressed down on a student's shoulder, a student that Fleur knew immediately.

"Harry?" Fleur questioned as said student's face became further revealed by the light of the lone fire, a look of resignation covering his face.

"Ah so the fourth champion has decided to arrive" Karkaroff grumbled.

"Professor I… I didn't put my name in the goblet" Harry protested as he was moved closer to the ensemble of wizards and witches.

The old headmaster walked over to the pale wizard, a pair of caring hands being placed on his shoulders. "Are you sure Harry, you didn't ask another student to do it for you?" Dumbledore asked kindly, his tone betraying the true emotion of the room.

The boy nodded feebly.

"Stop playing games with us Dumbledore, you cheated, you bewitched the goblet!" Maxime accused.

"Now Maxime why would I commit such an act?" Dumbledore questioned, his patience remaining calm as he moved away from his student, his retort making the head of Beauxbaton look like she was a child.

"It matters little, Mr Potter will have to compete. Once the Goblet has chosen a champion they are binded by magic to take part in the tournament" the other man stated, his expression astonishingly bored.

"You… you would let a boy compete?" Fleur questioned angrily, "he is too young, too inexperienced!"

"Miss Delacour I would advise that you hold your tongue on such a matter, Mr Potter has experienced much more than you ever have and perhaps ever will" the Professor named Minerva interjected harshly, her accent acutely Scottish, and angry.

"That is enough Professor McGonagall" Dumbledore warned sharpishly, his sudden shift in tone making the Veela jump, even with Maxime's heavy hand resting on her shoulder.

"Well if this arguing can be paused for a moment, I would quite like to explain the rules of the Tournament and its first challenge" the bored man interrupted again.

"But of course Mr Crouch" Karkaroff said, not even bothering to hide his displeasure of the unfolding events.

"All four champions will take part in the tournament" Mr Crouch declared, ignoring the looks of exasperation and rage that were being given to him, "it is obvious foul play is at works, whether because of Professor Dumbledore's failure with the Age Line or some other reason.

"Then we should be able to chose another champion, it would only be fair no?" Maxime claimed.

"I'm afraid the Goblet has been extinguished Maxime, it cannot be relit until the next Tournament" Dumbledore retorted.

"This is preposterous!" Karkaroff snarled viscously, "I will be lodging a complaint with the Ministry of Magic..."

"If anyone's got a reason to complain Karkaroff, its Potter, but yet he isn't" a garish voice jumped in, the sound of wood slamming into the ground hammered behind the slightly mad voice. When Fleur looked to the source of the new voice she found another one of Hogwarts professors standing behind Harry. The Professor's face was scarred terribly and he worse a hideously obvious fake eye that swirled about, looking around independent of the other eye.

"Why would he complain?" Fleur called out, her frustration reaching its own peak, "he gets to compete doesn't he, all of us have been hoping to be chosen for weeks and weeks. The honour it gives and a thousand Galleons, many would die for the opportunity!"

"Maybe someone wants Potter to die, that's why they put his name in" the scarred wizard argued back, his logic running painfully true through the collected group. No other magical Tournament had been the source of so many contestants' deaths.

"Only you would think along such lines Moody" Karkaroff pointed out critically.

"Its my job Karkaroff, seeing how innocent occasions can be twisted to to fit other people's advantages, to think like dark wizards, you'd ought to remember..." Professor Moody pointed out before he was silenced by Dumbledore.

"Alastor!" the grand wizard said, his voice shifting to one of power and authority.

The mad looking wizard fell silent, though he looked increasingly smug, espsically considering how the head of Durmstrang was fuming away silently.

"Harry and Cedric will both have to compete" Dumbledore stated, waiting for any further interruptions.

None came.

"If this is an accepted fact then we can move on" the old wizard said to the room, his expression turning to one of calmness.

Swallowing the painful fact Fleur nodded, her eyes wandering over to the fourth champion, his face was fallen and for some reason he seemed annoyed, irritated. The Veela dismissed this as playful acting, why would he not wish to compete?

"Thank you Dumbledore" Mr Crouch said, before he addressed the four champions, "the first challenge is meant to test your daring, because of this we are not able to tell you what you will be facing, to push a wizard in an unknowable situation and succeed can display a certain kind of courage, an important quality indeed. This task will be on the twenty fourth of November. None of you are permitted to seek aid or accept aid from any teachers. You are to be armed with only your wands and your wit. Because of the nature of this Tournament and how time consuming it is, you are all exempt from taking your end of year exams".

"Is that all?" Ludo commented whimsically.

"I believe so" Dumbledore nodded, "are you sure you cannot stay Barty?"

"I'm afraid not Albus… the ministry is very busy at the moment" Mr Crouch replied distractedly.

"Albus" the Scottish witch called out, drawing not only the Head of Hogwarts attention, but that of everyone else.

The witch's hand had returned to Harry's shoulder, seemingly to hold him steady as he swayed from side to side, his face an even paler shade than it had been, his eyes unfocused.

"Ah of course, please go Minerva" Dumbledore told her kindly, the witch immediately steering the young wizard out of the room.

"What in the blazes?" Ludo Bagman questioned loudly, voicing everyone, "Dumbledore is that kid alright?"

"That isn't for me to answer Ludo. Though if you are interested you are more than welcome to ask him" Dumbledore replied, his spectacles gleaming with a cold light.

"Come Fleur" Maxime whispered in the Veela's ear. Fleur was unable to resist her headmistress's guiding hand as she was pushed out of the room, her previous curiosity in regards to the boy who lived only being amplified, first his strange condition and now his entrance into the Triwzard Tournament. He was a delightful mystery.

But for now all Fleur was focused on was winning, and if that meant that one of the competitors was ill that spelled only good things for the Veela, it was one less serious challenge after all. Yet a tiny part of her felt doubtful, as though she shouldn't be happy about Harry's unknown condition.

* * *

**A/N:**

**If this is the first of my stories you've read you'll learn I don't keep my word in regards to update times :)**

**To answer a few of the questions I received in reviews... **

**(brodylopa) Yes the pairing is Harry and Fleur, but it'll be slow.**

**(NinjaDevil2000) This story will diverge slightly, can't really say anything else without spoiling I'm afraid.**

**(Smutley Do-Wrong) Honestly I don't even know what your review was trying to tell me, I guess I've offended the entirety of France by not knowing the ins and outs of a French dish so this fic is crap I guess. The rest of your review just didn't make any sense, sorry.**

**For everyone else I thank you for the kind words, they're always great to read.**

**Bye for now.**


	3. Chapter 3

"You look annoyed".

Fleur looked up from her bowl of thick porridge, its contents proving unappetising for the Veela. The French witch's eyes found the source of disturbance in front of her, it was the young Hogwarts girl she had spoken to during her first night within the grand hall. Fleur eyed the girl critically, noticing a painful looking knot in the midst of her shabby pale golden hair and the lack of a tie around her neck.

"And you are missing a part of your uniform" Fleur replied coldly, she was in no mood to play entertainer for the sleepy voiced girl.

"I don't think its missing, it got lost, though I wouldn't be surprised if some people from my house helped with that" Luna defended, though the way she spoke made it impossible to tell if she was offended by Fleur's comment.

"Why would they take your possessions? Is that not frowned upon?" the Veela inquired, if only because the conversation with the young girl was more entertaining than drawing shapes in her porridge with her spoon.

"It probably is, but it can't be that house-friendly to tell on them. They already call me names, I don't want to give them an actual reason to not like me" Luna explained.

"They already don't like you Luna, there is no point trying to win them over" Fleur told her, "if they take your things again you should curse them, send a message".

"Do you get bullied? You sound like you know what you're talking about" Luna questioned, her fascination in the French witch obvious from the shine in her blue eyes.

Fleur chuckled haughtily at the girl's question, "you think I get bullied? No silly girl, no one would dare commit such an act against me".

Luna's head tilted at Fleur remark, "you sound confident, how do you know they don't talk behind your back".

"I..." Fleur began before she stopped. As she thought about it the Veela realised she hadn't considered such a possibility, mostly because she didn't think other people would. She was perfect, powerful in magic and beautiful, why would anyone want to criticise her?

"I mean they probably don't, you seem nice, if a bit rude" Luna then said, her hands fidgeting with her robe cuffs.

"Um… thank you?" Fleur said in a confused manner, taken aback by the strange girl's behaviour.

"Your welcome" Luna beamed, her smile taking longer than it should have to fade, "though you didn't tell me why you look so annoyed".

Thoughts of a green eyed boy, her headmistress and the mysterious task that Fleur would be facing came to the forefront of her mind. The only good thing that seemed to have happened last night was her success in being chosen as champion, yet if felt ignored, out matched by the addition of a fourth champion.

"Are you always so blunt with your questions?" Fleur asked.

"Dad says honesty is better than lying" the pale blonde answered.

The Veela merely sighed with frustration at Luna's naivety, yet the French Witch felt compelled to spit out what had been biting away at her mind, if only to alleviate the irritation.

"That boy, Harry Potter, he is the reason I am so annoyed" Fleur admitted, her voice blunt, "he is a mystery wrapped in a skinny body, I can't pin what is wrong with him. His stunt last night only makes it worse".

"What do you mean stunt, are you talking about Harry becoming the fourth champion?" Luna questioned.

"Of course, it was planned, he wanted to compete in the tournament" Fleur replied passionately.

"But what if he doesn't?"

Fleur looked at the younger blonde as though she has just sprouted a second head. "What do you mean, of course he would want to compete, the money, the glory, all of it outshines the risks" the Veela retorted.

"But Harry wasn't even in the hall last night" Luna told her, "we all saw Professor Dumbledore calling out for him, but in the end he had to get Professor McGonagall to fetch him".

"So he was hiding, he probably did it to make himself look convincing" Fleur said dismissively.

"If you think Harry wanted to be the centre of attention, then I don't think you've judged his character very well" Luna stated, her expression slowly shifting away from the dreamlike trance to a hardening frown.

"What ever could you mean little girl?" the Veela asked in an overbearing manner.

"You don't actually know what he's been through the last few years, you're just making assumptions because he got into the tournament as well" Luna argued, "you don't know that he's had to fight dementors or deal with a serial murderer coming after him. I think he just wanted a normal year that didn't involve him at the centre of it all".

It took a moment for Fleur to take in what Luna had said. Dementors and a serial murderer? What was going on at this school? Though the Veela quickly shook her head, the crazy girl in front of her couldn't possibly be speaking the truth. Besides, Luna had only begun to speak up when the subject fell onto the green eyed boy, she was probably being protective over the boy due to some delusional crush.

"That doesn't change the fact that he didn't protest about his entry into the tournament, he didn't say much at all" Fleur remarked victoriously.

"I think you're just being petty" Luna told her in a blunt fashion, "you seem hell-bent on winning this tournament, the way your eyes shone when you talked about it says enough. But now you've got another champion to compete against and I think you're worried by him".

"Worried by that boy? Your head has been stuck in the clouds too long" Fleur laughed cruelly, "if anything I am glad that he is competing, he is weak, it will be easy to beat him".

The frown that had begun to form on Luna's face only deepened after Fleur's latest insult. The younger girl stood abruptly, her bag being brought over her shoulder, "I thought you were different" she told the seated Veela, "but you're just shallow like everyone else, you don't look beyond the surface".

"And you were naive to think otherwise" Fleur offered, the girl's words didn't even faze her, she had heard it all from jealous girls whose boyfriends couldn't keep their eyes from her.

"You know if you wanted to know more about Harry you could just ask him, he's over there" Luna offered, a finger pointing past the French Veela and towards the bench behind her. Fleur craned her neck to see where the crazy blonde was gesturing at. Yet true to her word, the manic haired wizard was there, walking from the entrance towards the table emblazoned with red and gold.

Even with the distance between them, Fleur could see a marked difference in the wizard's appearance. Some colour had been injected into his pale skin and this by itself brought a measure of life into the wizard's actions, he held himself a little bit higher. Though like a nail, affixed in place, forcing anyone looking at him to know he wasn't well, the bandage that was wrapped on his arm the previous day was still present. The gauze had been reapplied, this most recent attempt wasn't done by the same person that much was obvious. The fabric covered Harry's arm in a neat fashion, concealing whatever lay below it flawlessly without any overshoots or any apparent flimsy rips or hanging threads.

This boost in Harry's health seemed to be only good thing in store for the young wizard.

As soon as Harry arrived at the table the redhead boy who had drooled at Fleur's presence looked over to blacked hair wizard. His stare was soon joined by several other schoolboys. Fleur watched curiously, no words were spoken, however the meaning was clear. Harry's shoulders drooped considerably and he turned and walked back the way he went, his hands shoved into his trouser pockets, his bag being thrown as he stormed away. What had caused such hostile tensions?

"He doesn't look very talkative at the moment" Fleur stated, her head turning back, only to find Luna had left. The Veela shrugged off the strange girl's departure, the conversation was turning stale anyway.

* * *

_"You want me to do what?"_ Fleur questioned in French, the proposal was outlandish at best.

_"Did you hit your head Fleur? My plan is nothing strange"_ Madame Maxime replied in the same tongue, a touch of confusion colouring her words.

The Veela resisted the urge to swear at her headmistress with all of the expletives her native tongue allowed for her. The damned woman had dragged Fleur into a large room within the carriage, the walls covered in a faded padding, as soon as she had returned from her breakfast. When the pain in Fleur's wrist had subsided from Maxime's relentless pulling the headmistress had her that her training would begin today.

_"You want me to cast two separate spells… at the same time"_ Fleur repeated angrily.

_"Wordlessly as well"_ Maxime added, a large smile affixed to her haughty face.

_"Madame, what you ask of me… that is impossible, I struggle casting non-verbally at the best of times"_ Fleur fumed.

_"Ah but you are the best Fleur, you promised me you would succeeded"_ Maxime dismissed with a wave of her hand, _"in these challenges you will faced with the unknown, I need you to be prepared, casting multiple spells at the same time will be the basics"._

_"And how will you test me?"_ Fleur remarked, unamused by what her headmistress had concocted.

_"With some assistance of course, Julien come here"_ Maxime called, a door to the side of the large woman opening. Coming out from the door was a middle aged man, his hair slicked back with what Fleur could only assume was several dozen pots of grease. He wore a pair of creased suit trousers and a stained white shirt, a horrendously bad attempt of a black thin tie had also been added as though to add insult to injury.

"_Julien is one of the best duellist France has to offer, and he has given his services willingly to help you improve for the Tournament"_ Maxime explained.

_"A pleasure"_ Julien said, his voice as slimy as his hair looked, even the way he spoke in French sounded disgusting.

_"I'm sure it is"_ Fleur remarked, she had no desire to complete this training regime that Maxime had created, though from the knowing gaze the headmistress was giving her, Fleur knew her opinion didn't matter at this point.

_"So what am I to do?"_ The Veela sighed in resignation as she pulled her wand from her pocket.

_"It is quite simple"_ Julien stated, _"you will cast the protego shield charm to block my curse, and at the same time you will shoot this vase out of Madame Maxime's hand"._ As to indicate what Julien was saying was true, the headmistress produced a plain vase from the room Julien had walked in from.

_"I am sure you will pick this up in no time Fleur"_ Maxime told her, though from the way she spoke it sounded more like a threat.

Fleur watched hopelessly as Julien moved a few steps away, his wand being produced from his sleeve. Maxime stood to the side, the vase being held out. The Veela waited for some signal, a callout or some sign that Julien would begin. The Frenchman stood perfectly still, leading the Veela to fall out of her stance, and just as she was about to question the inaction a bolt of violet was shot at her.

_"Too slow"_ Julien dismissed, his head shaking with disappointment as Fleur struggled to stand back up, the confusion curse ridding her of her sense of balance.

_"I was given no warning!"_ Fleur cried out, falling over again as the curse took hold once more.

_"And you think the opponents you face will give you warning, or perhaps you believe that they will be too enraptured by your Veela charm?"_ Julien questioned, his voice filling Fleur with unease.

The not so subtle jab at her heritage sparked a determined fire within Fleur's chest. As soon as the curse's effects had died away she stood back up, her blazer being tossed aside as she rolled up her sleeves.

_"Again"_ she told the instructor, her attention now solely focused on proving the slimy worm in front of her wrong.

* * *

The next few hours raced passed Fleur, the sensations of different curses and stunners filled her body with aches and sores. She hadn't completed the exercise, not even once. Every time the Veela had been able to cast the shield charm wordlessly Julien would just fire off a powerful spell and shatter it. The vase in Maxime's hand hadn't been touched by Fleur's magic. Fleur left the sparring room with her blazer swung over her shoulder, the Veela feeling humiliated and tired as she retreated to her room.

Fleur's stay in her room was brief, she went about grabbing a change of clothes, a pale jumper and faded jeans. With these in hand Fleur went for a badly needed bath. The wash room wasn't too far away from Fleur's room, though they were annoyingly public. Thankfully Fleur's locking charm was still as effective. The idea that she would be told off for such a miss-use of magic flew past Fleur's mind as she settled into the heavenly warm water.

When Fleur had soaked long enough for the tips of her fingers to prune she quickly left the bath and dried herself, her long wavy hair being put up in a simple ponytail. Now that she was clean the Veela's stomach drew Fleur's attention. Disposing of her smelly uniform in her room Fleur went off in search of the kitchen once more. Winding through the corridors the French Witch eventually came about the small area, the room filled with sofas and old chairs that grandmothers would feel the most comfortable in. Though when Fleur turned to the actual kitchen area she was greeted by a sight that hadn't been there the previous day.

"Hello misses Witchy!" an exuberant House-Elf called out in broken English. The Elf was standing on top the kitchen surface. It was wearing quite a wide variety of clothes, an odd trait for a House-Elf, though the pair of ill fitting socks took the cake for the Veela.

"What are you doing here?" Fleur replied, not bothering to offer a similar greeting.

"Professor Dumbledore asked Dobby to cook for the French school, he said it was a very important task!" the house-elf said.

"So you are to be our cook?" Fleur questioned with a healthy amount of scepticism, "surely you will need help?"

"Ah well… I have help from the other elves, and I can use Hogwarts kitchens, they are very big, I can make anything!" the house-elf called Dobby stated with pride.

"Hmm" Fleur hummed as she pondered this latest development, "then perhaps you can make me lunch?"

The house-elf nodded eagerly and listened to Fleur's lengthy request, his face falling slightly at her specifications and instructions.

After only ten minutes Fleur was sat on one of the high stools facing the kitchen desk, her meal sat atop it. The Veela munched away, pleasantly surprised by the quality at which the house-elf had made her meal.

"This is good" Fleur admitted honestly as she took another bite from her sandwich.

"Thank you misses" Dobby said with a large smile that seemed ready to fall off his face.

"Do all students at Hogwarts have access to house-elves?" the Veela asked as she threw a grape into her mouth, the green berry went with a crunch and exploded into ever so slightly bitter juices.

"They aren't supposed to know we are there" the house-elf told her, "we are meant to stay in the kitchen and make food, and clean, and do whatever Professor Dumbledore asks".

"So the students don't even know it is house-elves that make their food?" Fleur stated with confusion.

"No, not at all. Many of the students know we make their food, a few even come to the kitchen for seconds and thirds. The weasels twins like to come for sweets and chocolates" Dobby said gleefully, as though he had helped in some way to fulfil the 'weasel twins' request.

"Oh, and Professor Dumbledore lets you wear such… creative clothes?" Fleur then asked, her choice of words kept tame in hopes of continued answers.

"No misses, Dobby is a free elf, what I wear is what I bought with my earnings that Professor Dumbledore gives me" Dobby explained, his eyes becoming teary as he mentioned the Hogwarts headmaster, "such a kind man, such a good man, he wanted to give Dobby a higher wage but Dobby threatened to punish himself if he did".

"Ah" Fleur said with surprise, she had for that moment forgotten the eagerness instilled in some elves when it came to beatings, "so… who freed you Dobby?"

"Mister Harry Potter!" the house-elf exclaimed happily which almost made the Veela choke on her food, "he tricked my old master into giving me clothes. Mister Potter is kind as well, he helps teach the young-uns".

"And why does he do that?" Fleur questioned at this latest piece of information about the source of her intrigue.

"Mister Potter has a lot of free time Misses, but he likes helping, he's teaching the first years flying today" Dobby told her.

"Why does he have a lot of free time Dobby? I know he doesn't go to lessons, but there must be a reason for it" Fleur said, pushing further, her plate of food now abandoned.

"Umm, Mister Potter is very poorly but Dobby cannot say any more Misses, Dobby is a good Elf and he would keep Harry Potter's secrets" the Elf said to the Veela, the small creature trying its best to look determined and sure faced.

The expectant eyes of Fleur quickly dropped to cold, chilling orbs. Why was it so hard to figure out what was wrong with this stupid boy? Pressing her eyes closed, the Veela massaged her temples, what had started a mere curiosity had rapidly begun to shift. If Fleur knew what was wrong with Harry then she could possibly use it to her advantage. She wasn't above blackmail. There was also the chance that one of the challenges would pit the champions against one and other. Knowing of a weakness could be a crucial game changer, even if it was against a fourth year.

"Dobby, you said that Harry was helping to teach some first years, could you show me where he is, please?" Fleur said as she put on her very best hopeful expression. The Veela charm had less of an effect on magical creatures and monsters, but it still could grab their attention if Fleur desired it, and she was putting her full effort into it.

The house-elf seemed to ponder Fleur's request for a moment, Fleur feared that if the elf thought any harder she would hear the cogs whirring in his head. To the Veela's delight this didn't occur and Dobby nodded slowly.

"I will show you misses" the house-elf pipped, "let me get another Elf to help with your friend's lunch".

Fleur frowned at what Dobby had said, what friends? Before she could ask what the Elf meant, he clicked his fingers and snapped out of existence.

Feeling a crawl on the back of her neck that signalled someone was staring at the back of her head, Fleur looked back and found several Beauxbaton students stand about impatiently, some of them even tapping their feet in annoyance. Fleur merely rolled her eyes and went back to eating the remainder of her meal.

It took only a few minutes for Dobby to return, alongside him stood another Elf whose clothing was less erratic to say the least. The Elf went about taking the other student's requests whilst Dobby jumped down from the kitchen table and gestured for Fleur to follow.

"What is your name misses?" Dobby asked as he led the Veela out of the expanded carriage.

Fleur wondered whether she should give her name, though she did note that the house-elf had answered most of her questions and he was leading the Veela to the boy-who-annoyed-her.

"Fleur Delacour" she told the Elf.

* * *

Dobby hadn't been lying when he stated that Harry had been helping the first years. The house-elf had led the Veela back onto the castle grounds and towards one of its bigger courtyards. The Veela's image was also protected by the lack of any students roaming the halls, something that had only popped into her mind as she followed the house-elf.

When they arrived in the courtyard, Fleur grabbed hold of the house-elf, stopping it from running into the small field of green grass full of first years and their brooms.

"Stop" she whispered to the elf as she ducked behind the low stone wall.

"But I thought misses Flower wanted to speak to Harry Potter?" Dobby questioned.

"No, I merely want to watch him" Fleur replied quietly, shaking her head at the Elf's bad English, "you can go now Dobby, you've done enough".

The Elf looked at the Veela with a suspicious eye but in the end he raised his left hand and apparated away with a snap of his fingers. Fleur waited for a moment to allow for the audible sound to fade away before she peeked over the small cover she was hiding behind. When she looked over the crumbling wall she saw the familiar black haired wizard walking between two rows of first year students, his own broom held firmly in his hand whilst everyone else's brooms lay on the floor.

Fleur listened as an older witch with grey spiked up hair called out instructions to the young wizards and witches. The Veela noticed that this older witch had no broom of her own, leading Fleur to believe that Harry's reason for being there was to help supervise the students after they had taken to the sky.

With some amusement Fleur watched as the students tried and failed to lift their respective brooms into their hands, her smile only grew when one girl with a yellow tie seemed on the cusp of crying due to her broom not having moved an inch, only for Harry to have appeared by her side and summoned her broom for her, the black haired wizard handing her the broom as quickly as he could before he re-assumed his slow patrol across the two lines of students. It looked as though Dobby had been right when he said Harry was kind.

The time eventually came when all of the first years held brooms in their hands and were preparing to take flight. Harry was the first to go, his movement effortless as he shot into the sky several feet. Gradually the first years joined him in a one by one fashion, the white haired instructor sending them off personally. Fleur watched with a small amount of nostalgia as she saw the faces of students for whom it was their first time flying, her own memories of flying coming back warmly.

Harry's role as helper soon came to a head when he started to fly upwards with each student following after him, some appearing to be shaky though no one fell. Fleur noted with some curiosity that Harry's attention wasn't on his own flying, but rather his focus was on the students, he acted as though he didn't need to pay attention to his own broom.

Though as quickly as the students had been sent skyward it was time for them to return, which looked to be the harder part for several of the first years. Harry was forced to intervene and physically steer a few of the more rebellious brooms, and in some cases students, towards the courtyard green. It eventually came down to one student, his broom proving particularly troublesome as he kept slowly rising, even as the Ravenclaw student adamantly pushed downwards.

A heavy shove however was the wrong move by the first year, who only agitated the broom that held a life of its own. The enchanted broomstick bucked violently, sending the student flying off and tumbling down.

A streak of black swiped the first year from the air before Fleur could get her wand out from her pocket. Fleur looked on with begrudging respect as Harry deposited the student onto the ground before zooming off to retrieve the misbehaving broom. He was a natural on a broom, the only thing Fleur could compare him to were professional quidditch players.

"Thanks for the help Mr Potter" the grey haired witch said to Harry as the last of the brooms were place into a large trunk.

"It was as eventful as usual Madam Hooch" Harry replied, his back to the Veela as he spoke.

"Hmm, don't think I didn't see you helping out Miss Smith Mr Potter, you've got to let them stand on their own two feet" the teacher added as she produced her wand and shot a levitating charm at the now closed trunk.

"I would have preferred to not have to comfort a crying witch Madam Hooch, and we both know that you wouldn't have done anything to help her" Harry jabbed, his tone a pitch higher, he was joking with a teacher.

"Hah! Got me there Potter" the witch laughed sharply, "now why don't you go talk to your admirer? She's been watching for quite a while".

Fleur's blood ran cold as she ducked under the stone wall, the teacher hadn't seen her, they didn't even make eye contact.

"What do you mean admirer?" Harry questioned, his words coloured with curiosity mixed with confusion.

"Go see for yourself, she's behind that wall" Hooch told him, the sound of grass being crushed filled the Veela's ears as it grew louder and louder.

Rather than be caught hiding Fleur decided she would rather stand dignified than be found cowering behind a stone wall. Rising to her full height, Fleur found a wand pointed at her chest, the wizard that had caught her attention was holding the piece of wood with a determined expression, only for it to melt away when he took in her face, a look of recognition blooming forth.

"Fleur?" Harry questioned, his posture remaining guarded, though to his credit he lowered his wand.

"Oui" Fleur replied calmly, even though her heart had begun to pound against her chest, "you look better".

"Why are you here?" the green eyed wizard said, his features hardening at the mention of his appearance.

Fleur breathed in, she decided there and then that she would find the answer to the question that had been steadily gnawing at the edge of her mind, and she wasn't going to allow any of Harry's objections get in the way of her pursuit.

"I came to talk" She told him, a friendly smile beaming from her face, "I think I said some very mean things to you last night, I want to make amends".

Harry eyed the Veela with guarded curiosity, but Fleur could tell he wasn't going to deny her, which only made her smile grow.

No one could resist her after all.

* * *

**A/N:**

**I think I'll leave the story there for today.**

**I tried to make sure Fleur seemed as unlikable as possible, it was my intention with earlier chapters but I hope I've gotten that point across clearly now. I'm not going for that nice Fleur arc that's popular in other fics, I want to write her a bit differently.**

**With regards to updates for this story, obviously this chapter has taken a lot longer to come out. All I can say is that I'll try to upload at least every two weeks, I know that isn't great but it's what works for me. This will mean that sometimes I'll publish sooner though I might need the full two weeks in other cases. This time allows me to write to my standard, and to allow me to rewrite parts I don't like or just rewrite the whole chapter. **

**I hope this is a good enough explanation for why I may sometimes take a long while to publish new chapters.**

**Bye.**


	4. Chapter 4

Harry's wand slowly fell to his side, his shoulders dropping as he looked closely at the Veela. With the natural light beaming in from above Fleur could pick out lighter shades of green in the young wizard's eyes. Veelas were commonly stereotyped into only valuing beauty and looks, but in this case Fleur's attraction to Harry's eyes was solely down to how mesmerising they were, they constantly shifted in tone and pigment. Fleur would have to been blind to have not noticed them.

"Why do you want to apologise?" Harry asked, his question throwing the Veela off, though she recovered quickly.

"This tournament we are a part of is about forging friendships and bonds between the schools, my behaviour last night went against such values. I felt it only right to correct my error as the champion of Beauxbaton" Fleur explained, her flawless smile remaining glued to her face.

"Fine, I accept your apology" Harry shrugged, his wand being stowed within his trouser pocket, "if that's all you've got to say I've got some studying to do, bye Fleur".

The Veela's eyes shot open as the young wizard turned and began to walk away, the abruptness of his departure throwing off Fleur's plan. "Wait Harry!" she called out, climbing over the small stone wall and onto the grass.

"What?" the wizard replied shortly as he span around, his green eyes turning dark as his irritation began to show in his expression.

"I… where you being truthfully about not putting your name in the goblet?" Fleur questioned earnestly.

A well practice frown formed on Harry's face, his hands forming fists before they unclenched. This wasn't the first time he had been asked this question today, and judging from the resignation that lingered in his stance, it wouldn't the last.

"I didn't put my name in Fleur, I only left the classroom you found me in to get something to eat" Harry explained, his hands sliding into his trouser pockets.

Fleur pondered this new piece of information for a lingering moment, the possibility of asking her new house-elf acquaintance about the truthfulness of Harry's statement was considered but the Veela pushed such an idea aside. Dobby was like any other house-elf that Fleur had met, stubbornly loyal and protective of those they liked. If she asked Dobby about Harry, the house-elf would only bring such a discussion back to Harry.

"Then I am sorry for doubting you" Fleur said kindly to the bespectacled boy, lying wasn't such an impossible art for the Veela, she only hoped that Harry would believe the facade she was putting up.

"Really?" Harry asked suspiciously, an eyebrow shooting up at Fleur's reply.

"I admit to being hot-headed Harry, I wished to take part in the tournament, I trained hard to even get the opportunity to come to Hogwarts. Seeing you just get a spot in the tournament without such effort angered me" Fleur admitted falsely. She hadn't even raised a finger, Maxime had given her the chance the second the headmistress had known the Tri-wizard tournament had been re-established.

"So you were just jealous?" Harry said with surprise.

"It is hard to accept such a description, but yes I think I was" Fleur nodded, all the while watching with attentive eyes as Harry's reservation melted away.

"Why were you jealous?" The wizard questioned.

Taking Harry's continued curiosity as a sign that the Veela's efforts were making some progress, Fleur took a different route, "I would like to keep talking with you Harry, but would you not be more comfortable sitting?" Fleur's eyes even hovered over to the sight of a nearby worn stone bench.

"I… sure I guess" Harry answered, thrown off by Fleur's misdirection. Nevertheless the dark haired wizard followed the Veela as she perched herself atop the cool bench surface, her face falling into a small amount of relief as she felt the pressures on her legs being released. Harry soon sat besides Fleur, the Veela smirking to herself at the distance Harry placed between himself and her. His guardedness was a cute trait, but one that would become tiring if it continued.

"To answer your question, I was jealous for more than a single reason" Fleur said softly, breaking the silence that had fallen. Fleur's cold blue eyes fell back onto the scruffy haired boy's face, what she was going to tell Harry came from a place of truth, that much was needed to earn his trust.

"I wanted to prove myself" the Veela muttered quietly, "everything in my life has been given to me, my magic, my looks. My family love me, yet I haven't earned it. I wanted to win this tournament to prove that I do not need to be handed things on a silver patter".

"You want to be seen as competent?" Harry offered.

"No, I want to be seen as strong" Fleur replied sharply, "I don't want to be someone who is just a Veela or just a Witch, I wish to be respected".

The Veela watched at Harry's brows shot upwards in surprise, though his expression soon relaxed. "Well winning one of the most deadly wizarding tournaments should get you some respect, though I'm not seeing how I relate to any of this".

"You are involved because I was annoyed with how easy you were able to become a champion" Fleur remarked, "I may have been chosen by my headmistress to come to Hogwarts, but after that it was the Goblet's decision. Even though you did not chose to compete, I wanted to and I had no clue as to who the Goblet would pick from my school. You only made it worse when you said you did not want to compete".

"Oh" Harry muttered, understanding lining his voice, "I suppose you weren't happy with my reaction".

"No, I wasn't" Fleur stated humorously, "but I will take your word Mr Potter as the truth, if anything I am concerned by the fact someone would want a fourth year to compete in such a dangerous competition".

"Hmm" Harry grumbled but said nothing. Judging from his dower expression Fleur could tell that Harry was bitter about the subject.

"Are you OK Harry?" Fleur asked softly as she slowly shuffled closer to the wizard.

Harry perked up at the Veela's question, "yeah I'm fine" he muttered with a bump in his voice.

"Clearly you are not" Fleur replied coolly, Harry's demeanour suggested 'fine' wasn't the word to describe him as.

"I… I can't remember the last time someone actually asked me that question" Harry told her, seemingly ignoring Fleur's last statement.

Fleur's eyebrow rose at Harry's small confession, "and why is that?"

"Probably because anyone who would have asked already knew the answer" Harry explained with a sigh, his hands moving to his face, his left removing his glasses whilst his right rubbed his eyes. When the spectacles had been returned to his nose Fleur could see some of the colour fade from Harry's face.

"How have your friends reacted to your entry into the tournament?" Fleur asked next, if only to hold back the uncomfortable silence that was threatening to descend on the pair.

"They won't listen to me" Harry replied curtly, his face hardening once more, his hands interlocking into a skin whitening grip. "I tried telling them that I didn't put my name into the Goblet, but they just think I'm lying. Some of them don't even care, they're just happy that someone from Griyfindor is in the tournament. A few think that I'm doing this to hog all the glory, to get my name in the papers again. None of them believe me".

Outwardly Fleur placed a sympathetic, concerned look on her face whilst inwardly she was grinning. Harry had more or less been abandoned by his friends, he was already ostracised by the other houses, but he was alone now. That made him vulnerable, desperate even. Fleur knew that Harry hadn't continued this conversation to hear out her apology, no, he was looking for a friend, someone who believed him. The Veela could play such a role easily.

"I believe you Harry" Fleur told him with a warm, endearing smile.

Harry looked at Fleur, the sheer disbelief that shone in his eyes told Fleur that this had been the first time anyone had told him this. "You do?" He questioned, his voice cracking ever so slightly.

"Oui, why wouldn't I believe my little guide?" Fleur told him whimsically.

A nervous chuckle escaped the small wizard, his eyes no longer able to remain on the Veela's blue. When the brief laughter had subsided Harry spoke.

"Thanks" he muttered quietly.

"For what?" Fleur replied, her voice just as hushed as his, which only seemed to send a chill through the wizard.

"Talking to me I suppose" Harry explained, is voice picking up in volume, though it still retained its rough throaty tone, "its nice to have a conversation without being accused of something, or being called a liar".

"I don't think you are a liar Harry Potter" Fleur said calmly, "you just seem lonely".

Harry nodded reluctantly at the Veela's statement, "yeah, I think I am" he replied.

A small lull in the conversation allowed Fleur to plan her next course of action. She had to test this newly formed connection, if only to see if it would snap.

"I need to go Harry, my headmistress won't be happy if she finds out that I've been talking to you" Fleur said suddenly, standing from her seat. Harry's eyes jumped up to follow the Veela, his green orbs encased in surprise once again. "It was nice talking to you Harry, but I must go" Fleur repeated, turning to walk away from the bespectacled wizard.

"Wait".

Fleur couldn't help but smile at the tinge of pleading in Harry's voice. The Veela quickly schooled her expression into one of curiousness as she pivoted on the spot to find Harry now standing, his hands forming tight fists be his side.

"Do you… do you think we could talk again, soon?" Harry asked, the desperation bleeding through his eyes more than his voice.

Fleur considered denying the wizard, a cruel voice in her head wanting to to see the look on Harry's face. The Veela clamped down on such a thought, she would beat the wizard in front of her, but she wouldn't humiliate him, not yet anyway.

"Of course Harry, but we can't be seen together too much. We are competitors after all" Fleur replied sweetly as she tried to push as much effort into her kind smile.

A small smile also appeared on the black haired wizard's pale face, something that looked surprisingly good on him. Fleur placed this strange thought to one side, and instead focused as Harry spoke to her, instructing her when they could next meet and where.

When such preparations had been made Fleur bid Harry farewell and quickly disappeared through one of Hogwarts endless hallways, a giddy feeling shooting through the Veela. Progress had been made, Harry saw her as a friend, or at the very least someone who believed him. She would be that person, a confident hopefully. Fleur still couldn't shake the exhilaration she felt when Harry had looked at her with such hopeful eyes. She was wanted, but not for her beauty or magical allure, such a feeling was addictive to the young Veela.

Yet for how prideful Fleur now felt she couldn't deny the gnawing at her mind, was Harry being truthful about not wanting to compete? Before she had felt so sure, but after talking to him the Veela felt the smallest amount of sympathy for him.

For now Fleur pushed such a feeling down, repressing it. She couldn't start to feel sorry for Harry Potter.

* * *

"_Again"._

Fleur rose with a shaky breath, her wand gripped tightly in her hand. The Veela's eyes looked to the greasy man who had cursed her to the ground for the seventh time this day alone. Julien stood lazily, his back slouched as he waited for the French Witch to stand back up.

"_You know I could help you some more, I would be willing to offer you further lessons" _Julien called out, his slimy excuse for a voice sending revoluted shivers down Fleur's spine.

"_I would rather shave my hair off"_ Fleur bit back, any regard for manners and formality had long since left the Veela.

Maxime shook her head, unamused by what was occurring, _"focus Fleur"_ she told her student with a disapproving tone.

Fleur bit her tongue, the desire to insult the large woman had never felt so strong. With an impatient breath, Fleur nodded to Julien, who flicked his wand casually. Fleur whipped her own wand out, thinking of the protego charm before she quickly moved her wand hand to the vase in Maxime's large palms. Fleur could almost feel the magic trail from her arm down to her wand as she tried to cast a stunner at the vase.

Yet it wasn't to be.

Fleur saw red as she doubled over. Her shield charm had blocked Julien's first spell, but it had proven too weak for the bone breaking curse he had sent afterwards. The Veela cared little for what had actually happened, her arms instead were wrapped protectively around her chest where the spell had hit. She could feel the shattered ribs and they oozed horrible bolts of agony through her body.

"_Move your hands Fleur"_ Maxime instructed as she towered over the crumpled Veela.

"_Go to hell bitch"_ Fleur spat back angrily, her form shaking from the pain.

The Beauxbaton headmistress sighed impatiently before she reached down and forcibly removed the Veela's hands. Fleur gasped as pain ricocheted through her body, though it was suddenly stopped and replaced by an icy cold feeling encompassing her chest. This sensation subsided quickly, taking the pain with it.

Fleur immediately got back up, shaking the half-giantess's hands off of her. _"We're finished"_ the Veela snarled, pocketing her wand and moving to the door.

_"Fleur we are done when I say so"_ Maxime replied, only for her message to fall on deaf ears as Fleur opened the wooden door and slammed it behind her.

The Veela stormed down the corridors of the enchanted carriage, she despised Julien, she despised Maxime, she despised these damned lessons that she was forced to attend! Fleur knew that Maxime's intent was to prepare her for the challenges she would face, but breaking her bones? Humiliating her constantly, what was the point in it? It had only been a few days and yet Fleur couldn't think of anything that compared to this torture.

She wouldn't go to tomorrow's lesson, Fleur was already in a foul temper and she knew that things would only get worse if she saw the foul looking dueller again. The man had been insistent during their lessons, always forcing her to try harder. Harder, what did he think she was doing? That last thing Fleur wanted was to be riddled with curses. Julien only made it worse for himself, there had been occasions when he saw fit to aid her up after stunning her. His hands were as sweaty and grimy as the rest of him. The temptation to burn her own hand just to be rid of his lingering touch had been something Fleur had contemplated for longer than she would care to admit.

Thankfully for the Veela she was pulled from such disturbed thoughts when she was forced to focus on entering her room. Inside the lightly coloured room Fleur's ears perked up at the sound of an owl's call. The Veela's eyes searched her small room, her blue orbs searching for the source of the noise. They soon fell on the open window, a familiar white owl perched on the end of the windowsill, a crumpled brown envelope attached to its leg.

"Hedwig?" Fleur said in confusion before realising that the owl had come to deliver a letter to her.

The snowy owl chirped, her intelligent eyes following the Veela as she moved closer to extract her letter. Fleur quickly reached over and pulled the rope holding the letter in place loose and snatched the letter from Hedwig's leg, the owl retracting her leg soon after. The Veela was surprised by the weight of the envelope, her hand almost losing grip of it. Though as soon as she held a firm grip on it she used her free hand to pull her wand free from her pocket, a cutting charm being used to free the contents of the envelope.

Fleur tipped the envelope out onto her nearby bed, a folded piece of parchment and a shard of glass falling out from the brown letter. Fleur grimaced as she watched the glass tumble out, thinking that it would impale itself within her quilt, though it only fell on its side to the Veela's happiness.

"I don't have any treats, but thank you" Fleur said to Hedwig as the owl continued to stare at her, making the Veela frown. This owl's gaze was unnerving to the Veela, it made her feel uncomfortable.

Knowing that Hedwig wouldn't stop staring, Fleur moved to sit on the side of her bed, her hand plucking the parchment and opening it to find her Mother's fluid French writing depicted on the rough document.

"_My Flower,"_

"_I am glad to hear that you arrived at Hogwarts safely, the journey in the Beauxbaton carriage must not have been a comfortable one and I know that you hate travelling without anyone you know. It is why I am overjoyed that you have made a new friend so quickly at Hogwarts, and a celebrity to boot!"_

Fleur rolled her eyes, her Mother was always worried about Fleur not making any friends.

"_Harry Potter, his name is not so well known outside of England but he is still famous here in France. Judging from your letter you want to know more about him, there are a few books about him, most of them are pure speculation, but they all hold a shred of truth to them. The more recent ones would be better if you do decide to read"._

Fleur sighed, she had indeed read the books about the lightning bolt scarred wizard, but there was nothing useful to them, nothing about his ill health or his personality.

"_But my daughter I caution restraint, you will only learn so much from dusty old paper, and you cannot go blindly poking your way into his life. The boy has no family and he has been through much, your curiosity may be good natured but if keep on scratching at him he may only bite back. You asked me if the tales of basilisk and dementors were true, I can tell you that they are. But I warn you my daughter, If he chooses to confide in you then you must respect his privacy and the weight of what he shares with you. I raised you to be a good girl my Flower, I know you have thorns but you mustn't prick this boy with them. Please if you cannot abandon this focus at least be kind to him"._

At this Fleur frowned deeply, her own Mother would lecture her about a boy she had never met. What did her Mother know that she wasn't telling Fleur?

"_However, you asked me if I knew of what ails this young boy and I must confess I do not know, if he was cursed then he would be dead. No curse causes the affects that you described that lingers for long. If he was cured he would display no ill effects, even if the healer was poor at their practice the boy's own magic would eventually heal him. Poisons too would have the same effect as magic, he should be dead if he was inflicted over a year ago, as you believe and if it was only to torture him a healer would certainly pick up on such. I admit my Flower, I am not the wisest of healers nor the most skilled, it could be a magical ailment, some sort of spell or substance, but I cannot know without seeing him. If you fear for his heath as I would hope you do, then know that Hogwarts has a most capable healer, he is in good hands, do not fear for him"._

The Veela snorted at the idea that she was worried about Harry's heath, he looked ill but he wasn't on his deathbed. Besides they were competitors, she couldn't feel such for the young wizard, nor did she want to.

"_But that enough talking about boys that have caught your eyes, your Father and Sister send their love. I haven't told either of them about your fascination about Harry, even though Gabrielle would love to know about it. I hope that you become the Beauxbaton champion and if you do be careful my Flower, it is a dangerous tournament and not one you can walk away from"._

"_I have enclosed an enchanted mirror in this letter as well, it should allow us to talk to each other without the need of an owl, though the one you have used this time is very beautiful. Hedwig is a good name indeed, it is a shame she already has a master. But I am getting ahead of myself, simply say my name onto the glass and I will know you want to speak"._

"_I love you my Flower,"_

"_Your Mother, Apolline Delacour"._

Fleur read over the letter twice more, her cheeks coloured in a faint red hue. She didn't have a fascination with Harry, she was curious, he had a secret, one that she could possible exploit to help her win the tournament and she was pursuing it! The Veela knew that from an outsider's point of view it looked as though she was focusing too much on the emerald eyed wizard, but she was doing it for other reasons!

Even with her mind focused on such a goal, Fleur felt the seep of doubt again. Looking over the letter she looked to her desk, her sister's book about the boy whom her mind was fixated on was open wide. Maybe she was focu… no, no! She couldn't doubt herself. What she was doing was the right thing to do in her situation.

The Veela glanced over the letter a final time before she ignited it with her fire. As soon as she learnt what Harry was hiding she could focus on other matters, then she could get rid of such a ridiculous notion that she was fixated on Harry.

When the parchment had disappeared and all that Fleur was left with was the faint smell of fire and ash the Veela looked over to Hedwig, the owl hadn't moved from its spot and its eyes, its ever so smart eyes were still looking at Fleur. The Veela held the gaze for only a moment before she looked away.

Owls were too wise for their own good.

* * *

Hogwarts was growing on the Veela, growing like Mold that was. As a creature of magic Fleur could feel the tendrils of faint magic that ran through the masonry of the old battered castle, they sang to her, they reached out and brushed against Fleur. It was one part comforting, three parts scary. Nothing could come close to such a sensation. Regardless, Fleur was becoming acutely aware of the school's maddening layout as she travelled about its long winding corridors and its rows of shiny suits of armour. Fleur felt more content wandering the old school than she did staying in her room, though that may be down to the fact Julien wasn't in Hogwarts and the looming presence of the first task seemed to fade ever so slightly.

This warm happy feeling in the Veela's chest was so poignant that Fleur generally ignored the lusty stares she garnered from the other male students, or rather she just didn't notice them. It was as if Hogwarts was helping her to block them out. While Fleur appreciated such a feature, it made it hard for the Veela to actually focus on students or teachers when she wanted to. As such when Fleur bumped into someone she felt the need to curse the school itself rather than herself.

"Apologies Monsieur" Fleur expressed as she backed away from the wizard she had hit. Her eyes were filled with a bright purple, it was almost blinding.

"Not to worry Miss Delacour, an old wizard like myself deserves to be knocked about for not looking where I'm going" a cheery, calm voice replied. Fleur quickly looked up to see the wizard's face, the Veela surprised to see she had walked into the headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Dumbledore.

"Professor Dumbledore I am so sorry" Fleur exclaimed, her eyes wide as she looked at the grand wizard, a small amount of awe sprinkled in amidst her apology.

"Miss Delacour I assure you that no harm was done" Dumbledore told her kindly, "it is not everyday I find a Veela strolling Hogwarts halls, if I may be so bold, why are you not with the rest of your peers during this nice afternoon?"

"I am exempt form the Beauxbaton learning plan as my school's champion" Fleur replied in her best attempt at a calm voice, in truth it was hard for the Veela to not feel intimidated by the old Professor in front of her, he was the most powerful wizard in Britain, perhaps the whole world.

"I see, so you are skipping lessons then?" Dumbledore remarked, his long beard moving to form a small smile as he looked down at the Veela.

"I… no I am not!" Fleur stammered nervously, only for the old wizard to chuckle and raise his hand.

"You have nothing to fear miss Delacour, I often avoided my lessons during my youth" Dumbledore said with a smile, "being stuck in a classroom is not the most desirable choice that comes to the minds of the young, yet it is something they all must do".

"It would depend on the topic Professor" Fleur interjected, though she accepted that she was never that fond of being in the classes of Beauxbaton.

"Indeed, though I will concede there is only such much that one can learn within the safety of a school" the white bearded wizard nodded in agreement, a single hand moving to stroke the long facial feature. "Miss Delacour if it is not too much trouble I would ask that you accompany me on a walk through Hogwarts, I fear it has been too long since I have been in the company of a Veela and my mind is running rampant with questions that I would ask you".

Fleur's eyes widened at the headmaster's request, she could hardly turn him down, and there was a chance she could ask her own questions. "Of course Professor Dumbledore" she told him with bated breath.

"Excellent, shall we off?" Dumbledore said, his half-moon spectacles shining delightfully.

Fleur nodded as she eagerly followed after the old wizard, his pace fast for a man of his considerable age.

"Now as I understand Veelas are magical beings, capable of changing their forms at will to that of a more avian kind" the Professor began as he strolled down the corridors, the various pictures on the walls moving to greet the school's headmaster and the blonde French Witch. "This form grants you considerable control of fire, does it not?" he asked.

"Non, I do not need to change" Fleur said, her hand moving outward, with a small degree of focus the Veela imagined the red flames that she controlled. After a few seconds the fires heeded her call and leapt out into the palm of her hand.

"Fascinating" Dumbledore offered, amazement filling his words as the flames flickered for a few moments before they died away, "and what other gifts does being a Veela entail, besides that of beauty?"

"Our allure, an affinity for magic and long life" Fleur told him with a hint of boredom as she lowered her hand, everything she was saying was what she had been taught at Beauxbaton by the other Veelas or by her own mother, was it not common knowledge?

"Nothing else?" Dumbledore inquired, his tone suggesting that he was disappointed.

Fleur stopped moving at the Professor's question as she racked her mind for more, there were other minor details about being a Veela, nothing worth mentioning, who really cared about permanent straight hair after all?

"There is nothing that I can think of Professor" Fleur answered eventually, her feet moving to catch up with the headmaster.

"Most strange" Dumbledore replied, though his previous disappointment had vanished, "there was an old fellow I knew of, he spoke of the most random of things. He believed that Veelas were empaths, that they could feel and sense other people's feelings and emotions. Are you saying that this is not one of your abilities?"

"I have never heard of such a thing Professor Dumbledore" Fleur confessed, this had been the first she had heard of such a detail before.

"Well it is no trouble Miss Delacour, you cannot be faulted for not knowing about something that does not exist" Dumbledore told her with a soft, kind smile that threw any of the Veela's attempts at such a feature in the bin.

"What else did this friend of your say about my kind?" Fleur asked, her own curiosity now piqued.

"Nothing that your ears should hear Miss Delacour" Dumbledore replied with a crooked glean in his eye as he turned to walk down a different corridor, "though I find it odd that you assume he was my friend, I did not say as such".

"I had presumed-" Fleur began, only for the old wizard to interrupt her.

"Indeed you had" Dumbledore stated, "presumptions are our way of our minds explaining things that we do not know about, they are biased and I have generally found them to be wrong, as you have just found out. It would be best that you curb your mind from such a practice, lest you wind up making enemies of friends".

Had it been any other Fleur would have retorted with a foul insult, but the Veela knew that the man speaking to her now wasn't talking to her from a place of authority and with a condescending tone. Professor Dumbledore's words held a meaning to them, a warning. Fleur couldn't shake the feeling that the old man that stood by her side could see more of her than just her face.

"But I think that is enough questions for today, I am sure you have better things to do Miss Delacour than entertain this old hag" Dumbledore mused merrily.

"It was not a problem Professor Dumbledore" Fleur told him with a forced smile, she felt trapped, even though she had said little in the way to incriminate herself, yet she still felt determined to ask the Professor her own question, and if he already suspected her of something it wouldn't change much if she was direct.

"Professor, what is wrong with Harry Potter?" the Veela asked boldly, throwing caution to the wind as she looked directly at the headmaster.

"What ever do you mean Miss Delacour?" the headmaster replied his head tilted to the side slightly as he looked to Fleur.

"Have you not seen him Monsieur? He is so very pale, he has an incessant cough and the night he was brought to the chamber to announce he was a champion he looked ready to collapse" Fleur explained as she restrained her growing frustration, was the Professor pretending to be oblivious or had he not noticed the ill health of one of his students?

"Miss Delacour I cannot possible comment on the health of one of my students, it is a personal matter and unless Mr Potter consents it isn't any of your business" Dumbledore told her with a harsh tone.

"So you aren't denying that he is unwell. Does this mean that you are fine with an ill student competing in the tournament?" Fleur said, trying to push through the headmaster's calm exterior.

"I have no say in the matter Miss Delacour, but know that I take the safety and care of my students with the up most seriousness" Dumbledore replied, "what I did not expect was your own concern, I understand that you and Mr Potter have begun to talk to each other. While I hold no objections to inter-house friendships I do object to morbid fixations and obsessions. There is a fine line Miss Delacour between curiosity and that which I am objected to. I would hope that whatever factor about Mr Potter that had drawn you in does not take you over Miss Delacour".

Before Fleur could offer any reprisal the old Professor began to walk away, his calm voice calling out for a final time.

"If you wish to read about the empathy that my associate believed your kind possessed I would search the library, it contains a myriad of fascinating theories and stories about Veelas".

Fleur didn't bother to catch back up with headmaster, she felt that their conversation had been concluded, perhaps before she had even asked her question. Yet the answer she had been given seemed to only give the Veela more questions, and worryingly the most blatant one surrounded herself. Was she obsessed or not? Was it due to Harry or could it be herself that was the cause.

Every moment Fleur pondered such questions she felt the swirl of doubt rise in her stomach. She was still determined to find out the root of Harry's strange ailment. But at what cost, and what was driving her? Her desire for an advantage in the tournament or this unknown ability that Professor Dumbledore had theorised.

"The library hmm" Fleur muttered to herself as she turned around and retraced her steps. She would get to the bottom of this conundrum, even if the answer wasn't the one she wanted.

* * *

**A/N**

**I got nothing.**

**Cya.**


	5. Chapter 5

Finding the book Professor Dumbledore had told Fleur about was an annoying task. The Veela had begun in the section dedicated to magical creatures, their abilities and their history. The only books Fleur found in this dusty old part of the library were of ones that contained information the witch already knew about. Her next port of call was asking the librarian herself. Madam Price was not easily amused by Fleur's request for books on Veela myths though she relented all the same.

"You should keep in mind that nothing in this book has any authentic backing" the Librarian told Fleur as she handed her a tatty brown book, its title label illegible.

Fleur muttered a brief "thank you" before she rushed off to a secluded wing where she wouldn't be disturbed.

As soon as the Veela had sat down she flipped over the over of the worn tome to chapter index. There were many strangely labelled titles _'albino werewolves exist and they are in control', 'a Dementor's kiss tastes like cinnamon'_ and perhaps Fleur's favourite, '_a night with a gnome is a night well spent'._ In the end Fleur was able to overlook some of the bizarre names and find the part of the book she was keen on, 'abilities of a Veela, the known and the unknown'.

It took Fleur only a brief look at the first paragraph to make her question the validity of what Dumbledore had talked about. Within the author's notes he made the bold assumption that her kind held a master plan that involved seducing the entirety of the male human population so that the wizarding race would become extinct and allowing the Veelas supremacy over the planet. Fleur nevertheless continued her reading, the second chapter holding a little bit more promise.

"_Veelas are as we all know a magically enlaced species, they live and breathe magic. Without it most Veelas would simply die. As such they are gifted with many different and strange abilities. I will not bore you will an endless list of the confirmed aforementioned abilities, however on my travels through the Romanian Carpathian mountains I have come across a peculiar Veela, she spoke little English however her clan were more than willing to explain her peculiar skill set"._

"_First and foremost her spells were conjured with a raw power that many in the wizarding world lack, her magic seemingly amplified. She was able to cast several charms and transfiguration spells without becoming fatigued in the slightest. Furthermore her known Veela traits were enhanced, I would not doubt the enticing pull her presence gave off and as I would later learn it was something that she held little control over, though even with her focus placed solely on her allure she could not fully rein it in"._

"_However, by far the most curious difference between this particular Veela and her kin was her acute sense of empathy. I confess to not be the most observant of wizards and this only became painfully apparent after I broke my leg scaling a troublesome rock face. The Veela clan that I was staying with were most kind in aiding me in my recovery. Though the Veela I have mention earlier was the first to notice my broken appendage, even going so far as to help me to my bed and then calling for a healer. During my bed rest the Veela returned to my side in regular intervals. The barrier of communication prevented us from talking to one and another, though it was clear from her constant presence and willingness to help me in my pained state that she was very aware of my condition"._

_"It was only after consulting with some of the elder Veelas that I learnt of this Veela's empathetic power. It was as I believed earlier, she could feel or sense the pain I was enduring and according to one elder the Veela felt almost compelled to help me. Further discussion revealed to me that for younger Veela or Veela whose empathetic ability had only just begun to develop, that they would not be able to feel the pain directly, but rather they would experience a compulsion or intense curiosity towards certain people, regardless of gender"._

"_While at first I thought of this trait as a way for Veelas to aid each other in times I found it most strange that only this Veela in particular possessed this ability, could it be a rare trait, akin to hetrochromia? Alas the reason for this peculiar ability is unknown to all, even the Veelas, though as I would learn later this empathetic power that this Veela had would become more of a hindrance for myself"._

"_A few days after I had fully recovered from my broken leg I found that the Veela who had visited me before wished to continue seeing me. As I was staying with the clan for a further week I held no objections to such a wish, soon the hours where we were apart were dwarfed by the time we spent together. I taught her the finer points of the English language and she in turn explained her reason for seeking my companionship"._

"_She saw it as a sign, that her power to feel what I had felt was a symbol of a bond. There and then she asked for my hand in marriage. I refused as politely as I could, I was a married man with two beautiful children. However she did not take well to this knowledge and stormed away. Later I was told to leave the clan as they could not guarantee my safety. I gladly agreed with their sentiment, a word of warning my dear readers, you do not want to incur the wrath of a Veela, it is a fiery anger that few can withstand"._

"_This trip was almost a decade ago, and I have yet to hear any word of any other cases of such an empathetic bond. There is a chance of course that other magicks were at play but this clan of Veelas were not the type to lie about such things, being as traditional as they were. Yet, the strangest of things have occurred to me since this fateful meeting. Other Veelas have told me in passing they can feel the traces of Veela magic over me, some are even confused by such a fact, they believe that my wife is a Veela. I can say with solid assurances that my wife is most certainty not a Veela"._

Fleur stopped reading from that point onwards, her breathing was short and unbalanced. Every part of her was screaming that what she had just read was shoddy, blatant lie. No Veela could feel the pain of others, nor would they want to. Even if this trait was real, it wasn't an indication of a bond. Fleur couldn't imagine herself with that thin, pale child, never.

Slamming the book shut Fleur sighed as she leant her face against her open hands, even now she couldn't get Harry Potter out of her mind, his name stirred her intrigue. The desire to know what was afflicting him, what had made him stand out only grew with each passing second. Fleur couldn't think of anything else and such a realisation scared her.

With shaking hands Fleur stood up, grasping the book she had taken left the library at a quick pace. She needed fresh air and a different opinion.

* * *

An outsider may have been surprised by how well Fleur had gotten use to the layout of Hogwarts, she didn't know the fastest routes through the castle but at least she wasn't getting lost, most of the time at least. Additionally the Veela benefited form not having to attend any lessons within the castle or with her school, a fact that made her smile even as she crossed the rickety bridge that spanned from the school to the school grounds.

Fleur spared no time once she was in the safe confines of her room. The Veela quickly located the crudely cut shard of glass and rushed back outside. Fleur walked briskly down the windy grounds towards the edge of the large lake, its contents filled with a black, uninviting water. Perching herself atop a smoothed over rock the Veela muttered her mother's name into the mirror. A few long seconds passed when nothing happened, which only made the Veela wonder if she had done something wrong though she was quickly proven wrong when the surface gave way to reveal the face of her mother.

_"__Hello Flower"_ Apolline greeted warmlyin French as she smiled at her daughter. The Elder Veela held a similar face to her daughter, a smooth flawless face with supple lips and golden hair that flowed down past her shoulder. At times Apolline had been confused as the older sister of her daughter due to how youthful her eyes shone.

"_Hello Mother, it is nice to see you" _Fleur said as she smiled back, though she was unable to offer a similarly dazzling smile, something that her mother picked up straight away.

"Are you well? You look pale" The older Veela asked, concern lining her expression as she looked on with imploring eyes.

_"I… I don't know Mother"_ Fleur sighed, allowing some of her inner frustration to be truly shown, _"I've been reading this book about our kind, it says that some Veela can possess the ability to feel other people's feelings"._

_"You mean Empaths?"_ Fleur's mother questioned, her tone calm, _"yes, that is a rare trait among Veela, but it is harmless, if anything it is quite a nice skill to have"._

_"But can it lead to anything, like becoming obsessed?"_ Fleur questioned urgently, hoping that her mother would give her the clarity she sought.

_"Not that I have heard, it isn't a very well documented skill Flower"_ Apolline admitted with a touch of embarrassment, _"even still, you should not worry yourself Flower, if you are an Empath then nothing about you will change, you will still be the same person you are now"._

_"Mother I don't think you are right"_ Fleur muttered quietly, _"The boy I told you about earlier, Harry. I… I cannot get him out of my head, I keep thinking about what could be wrong with him and I feel the overpowering urge to find out what it is, regardless of the consequences"._

_"Flower what you are saying doesn't make sense"_ Apolline stressed, _"Empaths are only able to feel other people's feelings, their happiness and pain"._

_"But what if… what if I can't feel it, not yet anyway. The book said that sometimes Veelas don't always feel what people are feeling but instead become fixated on them"_ Fleur said quickly, her breathing irregular as she spoke, _"it makes sense no? Why I have become so focused on Harry"._

_"I suppose you are right"_ Apolline agreed with a terse nod, _"are you scared?"_

_"I have no control Mother"_ Fleur said quietly, "he's in my thoughts and I cannot make him go away, its like an itch that I cannot scratch".

_"Then scratch it"_ Apolline told her, a newfound sense of conviction flowing through her words.

_"Pardon?"_ Fleur questioned, confused with the switch in her Mother's argument after what she said in her previous letter.

"_If you can't ignore this urge then it would be best to satiate it"_ Apolline explained, _"I know I asked you to stay away from Harry as to not pester him and I still wish you didn't __have to__, but there wouldn't be anything wrong with getting to know him. Perhaps befriending him will allow your empathetic powers to fully develop"._

_"It wouldn't hurt to try"_ Fleur said, considering her Mother's suggestion and noticing the irony of how her desire to befriend the green eyed wizard would hold a shifting intention. All of a sudden the Veela's wish to win the Triwizard tournament was engulfed by her growing desperation to gain control over her wandering thoughts and feelings.

_"And who knows, maybe you'll make a friend in the process"_ Apolline pointed out, only to be offered a less than amused frown from her daughter.

_"That is the least of my concerns"_ Fleur retorted dryly.

Apolline and Fleur continued to talk to each a while longer, the Veela matriarch gaining a guarantee from her daughter that she would remain safe in the Tournament. Eventually however, Fleur had to cancel the spell on the mirror and return to the Beauxbations carriage, lest she draw the attention of her Headmistress.

* * *

"You should be kinder to Julien" Maxime said to Fleur in her thick voice rapidly.

"That pervert gets what he deserves" Fleur replied stiffly as she kept pace with her headmistress. Today the Veela would be partaking in the wand weighing ceremony, from what Maxime had divulged the ceremony was more tradition, however if there was a significant issue with any of the Champion's wands they could be dealt with before the first task.

"He is giving his time freely to help you improve" the half-Giantess told the Veela in a stern manner, "and judging from the fact you have yet to pass even one of his tests I'd say you need his help".

Irritation streaked through Fleur's mind at her headmistress's less that subtle jab at her skill, even if she was right. For the time being the Veela kept her mouth shut.

As it turned out, Fleur and Madame Maxime were the first to arrive to the classroom dedicated to the day's ceremony. Desks and tables that would have normally littered the room had been removed or hidden and all that remained was a single plain wooden desk and chair, an old man with eccentric grey hair sitting atop the wooden feature. Further away from the wizard's desk was a pair of armed chairs, neither of which looked inviting to the blonde witch.

"Early birds are we Madame Maxime?" a voice called out from behind the Veela and half-giantess.

Fleur went to look for the ownerless voice, familiar in sound. As she turned she found the colourful robes of Albus Dumbledore glaring back at her, the headmaster greeting her with a pleasant smile.

"If only to set a good example Albus" Maxime replied with a false sense of warmth, Fleur could hear it from miles away.

"Indeed, but might I ask for whom?" the old professor inquired, the wizard shooting the Veela a knowing look for half a second before his attention reverted back to the Beauxbaton headmistress.

The conversation between the respective heads continued, and into the realm of boring subjects for Fleur, who took to blocking out the uninteresting conversation as she stood by Maxime's side, all the while trying to fight the urge to rip off the blue hat that sat atop her head, the material irritating her scalp to no end. Thankfully the Veela's attention was diverted to the entrance of the Drumstrang Champion Victor Krum and his Headmaster. They were soon joined by Hogwarts first Champion, the boy who gave a guilty look when Fleur locked eyes with him. Fleur merely smiled at this, she would never entertain the idea of using her magic to purposely attract someone, but she could still find some enjoyment at seeing the effects her allure had on men, especially ones aware of their less than acceptable thoughts.

"Your extra Champion is late Dumbledore" Karkaroff pointed out with a blatant sneer, "perhaps he realises the gravity of his situation".

"If that belief is the one you hold as fact Igor then I don't think anything I say will change your mind" Dumbledore replied calmly as he twirled a finger around a loose gathering of grey beard hairs.

Karkaroff snorted and coughed at Dumbledore's comment, but made no effort to speak again, instead choosing to take his student by his side and converse with him in Bulgarian. The silence that came next did not last long however as the door to the classroom was thrown open once more, revealing a woman with blonde curly hair done up with a lifting charm that Fleur could feel from her spot next to her headmistres A pair of oval glasses were placed over her nose, which seemed to amplify the piercing gaze the woman gave to all of the occupants in the room. Behind her was wizard clothed in dirtied robes carrying a heavy tripod with a camera attached.

"I count three Champions" The woman declared as she strode into the room, her cameraman's eyes remaining fixed on Fleur than anyone else, something that made the Veela roll her eyes.

"I see your eyesight has yet to fail you Rita" Dumbledore stated as he moved over to greet the blonde lady.

"Hmm, I wonder where the fourth champion is" Rita questioned, ignoring what Dumbledore had just said and looking about with inquisitive eyes, her lime green dress proving to be sickly on Fleur's eyes. It didn't take much, but this Rita woman already annoyed Fleur.

Five minutes soon turned to ten, then twenty. It was almost thirty minutes before the final champion burst through the door, his robe streaking behind him as he came to a stop, gasping for breath.

"Sorry… late… didn't see… the time..." Harry panted heavily as he stood up straight, his hand running through his hair frantically, his green eyes standing out with a lively tone.

"That's quite all right Mr Potter" Dumbledore said kindly, clapping his hands together, "we can get started now Ollivander, if you are awake that is?"

"Of course Albus" the wand maker agreed heartily.

"What about my interviews Dumbledore? You did promise" Rita interrupted with a crack of her heels.

"At the end, if there is time" Dumbledore replied, "that was my promise".

The reporter frowned at the headmaster's words, but she said nothing as she moved to the back of the classroom with her cameraman. Meanwhile Fleur was pushed forward by the strong hand of her headmistress, the other Champions joining her as they stood before Ollivander's table. By chance Harry happened to be standing by Fleur's right hand side, this action creating the briefest of butterflies in the Veela's stomach that left as quickly as they had arrived.

"Why were you late?" Fleur whispered to the black haired wizard.

"I was napping" Harry replied quietly, his answer creating the smallest of smiles on the Veela's face. At least it wasn't anything dubious.

* * *

The wand weighing ceremony last only a few minutes. Ollivander took in each of the Champion's wands, testing each of them with a simple spell whilst also revealing the make of each of them. An act of amazing memory for the wands he had made for Harry and the other champion Cedric, but when the wandmaker was able to list off the wood types and the cores of both Krum's and Fleur's wand, the Veela was left speechless, even as Ollivander told her how potent her wand was for charms.

Next the champions pictures were taken, group and single shots were taken, much to the dismay of Harry, whose ragged attire was only solved by the intervention of a few well placed spells by Fleur. This action earned her a grateful smile from the scruffy wizard, though to the confused look of Madame Maxime, her tightening grip on the Veela's shoulder making her wince.

In the end however all of the pictures that were needed had been taken, much to every Champions' collective relief. However Fleur had not forgotten the brightly coloured Witch who was hanging about in the back of the classroom, a similar shaded purse held in her hand which shone brightly with the large ring that was wrapped around her finger.

"Now that that's over" Rita said as she moved to block the door out of the classroom, "I believe its time for my interviews".

"Come now Rita, the ceremony took longer than anyone could have known" Dumbledore protested gently, "we both know that you cannot possibly get interviews with all of the champions". Maxime and Karkaroff nodded in agreement to Dumbledore's point.

"Very well" Rita sighed, "I guess I will do with just one".

The Hogwarts headmaster nodded with a hint of relief, though his expression soured when the reporter's finger pointed towards Harry, her eyes latching onto his scarred forehead.

"Harry Potter" Rita stated simply, though her voice made Fleur's insides twist.

Harry for his part merely shrugged and followed the reporter into a broom cupboard, even as Fleur stared at the back of Rita's head with equal amounts of irritation and annoyance.

Without the blockage at the classroom's exit the remaining Champions fled in fear of being interviewed after Harry, even the cameraman left. Though when Maxime tried to push Fleur to the exit she remained affixed to the stop.

"I would like to speak to Harry" Fleur told her headmistress without a backwards glance as she retook her spot on one of two chairs that had been used for the photographs earlier. Maxime looked at her student with a mixture of indignation and silent fury, though before she could even speak Dumbledore intervened.

"If you are worried of any harm befalling your student Maxime I can personally assure you that Fleur Delacour will be safe under my supervision" the old Professor said merrily, "and I mean from Rita Skeeter and her awfully written articles, I cannot stop Miss Delacour's interest in pursuing her friendship with Mr Potter, though I cannot imagine why we would want that".

"No of course not" Maxime said with a forced twitching smile, giving her student a knowing glance, "I will see you back at the carriage Fleur".

"Yes Headmistress" Fleur replied with a respectful bow of the head, all the while inwardly smirking at what the Hogwarts head had done. When Maxime had trudged out of the classroom, the door clanging loudly as its hinges were tested when the headmistress slammed the door shut, the Veela offered Dumbledore a genuine smile.

"Thank you Professor Dumbledore" Fleur expressed honestly.

"For what my dear?" Dumbledore replied, his half moon spectacles gleaming gently, "though I hope you remember what I said to you yesterday".

"I have Professor" Fleur nodded, Dumbledore's words about his dedication to his pupil's safety ringing firmly in her mind. For now Fleur had abandoned her goal of abusing Harry's ailment for her own advantage, instead she wanted to find the cause of her intrigue in the young wizard in hopes of satiating her newfound ability. Though that wasn't to say she had no desire to win the tournament, no that dream still burned brightly.

"Why are Rita's articles awful?" Fleur inquired as silence fell in the classroom, the Professor seemingly staring at the ceiling with a patient expression.

"They are awful in the sense that Ms Skeeter likes to veer away from the truth whenever she knows it would ruin an eye-catching front page" Dumbledore explained, "however her writing style is quite unique, and her grammar is better than most reporters, but those are my observations alone".

"Has she written about you?" Fleur then asked, noticing the familiarity with which the Professor spoke with.

"Several times" Dumbledore nodded passively, "nothing pleasant, I would avoid anything that comes from her articles Miss Delacour, if only so that your sanity remains whole".

"I will keep that in mind Professor" the Veela muttered, her voice diminishing as she heard the rumbling of a raised voice from the broom cupboard. Fleur quickly stood back up, the sense that something was wrong was growing sharply in the Veela, and it seemed that the Professor too shared such a sentiment, his own attention moving to the cupboard's door.

"How strang-" the head of Hogwarts began, only for his speech to be cut off by the cupboard door being thrown wide open, Harry walking out with a disgruntled expression written across his face. Rita followed quickly behind the displeased wizard, an acid green quill flying by her side.

"Mr Potter we haven't finished the interview!" Rita exclaimed, only to be stopped in her tracks when Harry turned to face her.

"We have now" Harry told her shortly, his voice low and anger filled.

A streak of indignation flashed across the Witch's face, her expression tightening as she stepped closer to the young wizard, "now Mr Potter I'm sure this was just a small misunderstanding, surely we can resolve this by talking". However, the Witch didn't even wait for a response before she reached out and wrapped her fingers around Harry's right wrist and pulled him back to the cupboard.

The softest of gasps escaped Harry's mouth, and Fleur watched as the young wizard simply fell to the ground. Rita immediately let go of his wrist, startled by Harry's sudden collapse. What occurred next left a blank hole in the Veela's memory, one moment she was standing away from the scene, the next she was by Harry's side, the reporter lying on the floor, Fleur's wand held tightly in the Veela's grip.

Fleur's focus was placed solely on Harry, who was drawing breath in a rapid, irregular pattern, before Fleur would have consider Harry as small, but now he looked frightening tiny. With a gentleness that the Veela didn't even know she possessed she reached out and placed a hand on the wizard's back.

"Harry, what's wrong?" She questioned softly, feeling Harry's back shudder under her touch.

Harry didn't respond, his eyes held firmly shut as he lingered on the ground, his forehead scrunched up tightly. Agony was written across his face, even if he wouldn't declare it.

"Miss Delacour I would advise you stand away from Mr Potter" Dumbledore said from behind the Veela, his voice losing none of its kindness, but gaining a sense of authority.

For one painfully long moment Fleur had trouble determining whether to listen to the headmaster, an instinctive drive had fallen over the Veela, the boy by her side was in pain and she wouldn't allow anyone else to hurt him, all the while a dull ache emanated from her right arm, but the Veela paid it little notice.

Eventually logic prevailed in Fleur's mind, the head of Hogwarts would cause no harm to Harry, he had no reason to. Slowly the Veela backed away from the fallen wizard, her eyes not leaving his form as she allowed Professor Dumbledore to step closer. With a surprising amount of strength, the old wizard pulled Harry up, Dumbledore supporting him with an arm wrapped around his shoulders and a hand placed firmly on his chest.

"Thank you for your aid Miss Delacour but I shall take care of Mr Potter" Dumbledore explained, the twinkle gone from his spectacles as he looked from the Veela to the unconscious reporter, "I must say you have a spectacular stunning charm". Fleur had barely blinked before the old Professor moved swiftly, Harry in tow, out of the classroom, the class door opening without Dumbledore lifting a hand. When the door closed Fleur was left alone, the sound of Rita's breathing the only noticeable noise.

The young Veela was left in a daze, shocked by how quick she had been with cursing Rita, and worried by how instinct seemed to have taken over her actions. Even now her memory of events seemed to blur, the only thing that felt solid, felt real was the intense concern she felt for Harry. His expression when he had been on the floor triggered both anger and worry in the Veela, more so than anything the Veela could recall.

The book had been right, but Fleur cared little about what the old dusty tome had stated. Right now, Fleur could feel a swelling in her chest, she had just let Harry go, without making sure that he would be well. A biting, gnawing anxiety was building in the Veela's chest. She needed to make sure he would be alright. Any thought of returning to the carriage had long since been thrown to the wind. Placing her wand back in her robe pocket, the Veela strode forth out of the classroom, intent on finding Harry.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Work has been a bit hellish at the moment, though I have a feeling its going to be like this for a while. Its the main reason for the delayed chapter, I didn't want to rush it. I hope you all can understand and bear with me as I try to get IRL stuff sorted out.**

**With regards to the story I would hope you are still enjoying it, if you've got any questions go ahead and ask them in the reviews.**

**Bye for now.**


	6. Chapter 6

Fleur stepped out of the classroom, her mind set on finding the young wizard she had just seen collapse, concern riddling her every thought. The only problem however was that French Witch had no idea where Harry had been taken. Dumbledore was quick, astounding quick considering his advanced age. As Fleur looked about she could see no sign of where the pair had gone. The Veela frantically racked her thoughts and her memories of the ancient castle, trying to think of where the injured wizard could have been taken. Yet the only thing that came to her mind was her mother's passing mention of a healer being within Hogwarts, just not where.

"Merde" Fleur swore angrily as she swung her hands about in frustration. She had no clue where Harry was.

The next thing that Fleur considered was how to find out where the healer was. She could ask a Hogwarts student and if they were male the Veela wasn't against using her charm to her advantage, but there were costs. It set a precedent, she hadn't done something like this before and enough conversations with her mother taught her that abuse of her magic was a slippery slope. Yet the idea didn't feel wrong, not when Fleur's intentions were, in her mind, well meaning.

It was as Fleur was pondering her dubious plan that another thought came to mind, one that widened her eyes as she realised her own stupidity.

"Dobby!" she called out, the house elf would surely know where Harry would have been taken.

Several eternally long seconds passed as the French Witch waited for the strange house elf to emerge, Fleur tapping her foot against the stone masonry impatiently before the telltale audible crack sprang up from behind her.

"Missy flower!" the House elf cried out enthusiastically, "do you need Dobby's help?"

"It's Fleur" the Witch grumbled before she sighed, "Dobby, where would I go if I hurt myself in Hogwarts, do you have a healer?"

"Are you hurt Miss Flower?" Dobby questioned, his ears springing up as his eyes doubled in size in concern for the Veela, "Dobby can take you to Madam Pomey, she can make you better!"

"Is she the only healer on the campus?" Fleur asked as she tried to make sure she would be taken to the right person.

"Yes, yes! She is a very good healer, very kind to Dobby" the Elf piped as he jumped about in an excitable fashion.

"Then can you take me to her Dobby, I need to see her urgently" Fleur said with a forced smile.

The house elf nodded with a vigour that made Fleur wonder if Dobby's head was at the risk of simply falling off. Thankfully this did not occur and Dobby raced down the hallway behind the Veela, forcing Fleur to turn and chase after him, a difficult task considering her constricting her school's uniform could be. The path towards this healer was more a climb towards the top of the school, Fleur's face becoming riddled with sweat as the persistent house elf ran up staircase and hallway without a seeming care for his companion.

"We're nearly there" Dobby state as he finally looked over his shoulder to find the Veela holding her side, a bothersome stitch stabbing into her was the last thing that Fleur needed.

"Slow down" Fleur gasped as she took in large lungfuls of air. The house elf's ears bent downwards at the harshness of Fleur's voice, but nevertheless the creature remained fixed to the ground. After a short break, in which the French Veela rid herself of her odorous sweat and corrected her hair, the pair continued with Dobby taking a more relaxed pace, much to Fleur's relief. Though as the two magical creatures wound their way through Hogwart's large halls, Fleur spotted a pair of students standing in front of a large door, without a second thought the Veela gestures to Dobby to hide behind the corner of corridor they had just turned from.

"He's our friend Ron, why can't you put aside your own issues to see that?!" a female voice stated, Fleur could feel the veiled infuriation behind the girl's tone.

"Friend? Hermione tell me that last time Harry actually spent time with us?" an equally aggravated voice replied, this one was male, and still breaking between a deeper tone and a pre-pubescent one. "its only because we live in the same tower that we see him, and when he does talk to us he's distant".

"Miss Hermy and Mister Ron are arguing" Dobby muttered faintly by Fleur's side, "Master Harry's friends shouldn't fight".

Fleur's attention perked up slightly at what the house elf said, the young wizard had seemed desperate for friends earlier, but now it looked as though he already had some companionship, even if they were arguing with each other.

"Is the healer through that door?" Fleur questioned quietly as she watched the ensuing squabble.

"She is, do you want Dobby do come with you?" the house elf asked in kind manner.

The Veela shook her head once, "you've done enough Dobby, you may go".

The whip-like crack that signalled the house elf's departure however also pulled the attention of the Hogwarts students, much to Fleur's annoyance.

"Who's there?" the ginger boy questioned as he looked at the corner the French Witch was hiding behind. With a disgruntled internal sigh, Fleur straightened her back and walked out, revealing herself to the two onlookers.

The boy named 'Ron' by his peer quickly fell into the typical delirium that befell most boys when they looked at Fleur. To the Veela's surprise however, the girl with an abundance of curly hair also held the barest hint of hazy vision as she looked at her, though this quickly vanished.

"I couldn't help but notice that you were talking quite loudly" Fleur began in an innocent manner, "were you talking about Harry?"

"How do you know Harry?" the girl questioned, her eyes looking critically at the taller Witch, the ginger boy's expression still slack-jawed.

The Fleur restrained her knee jerk reaction to spit vile abuse at the young Witch, if the pair in front of her were Harry's friends she couldn't be rude, even if it felt like the easier option. "I'm Harry's friend" Fleur explained, her voice forced into a calmer and kinder tone than she would have liked to take, "he collapsed at the wand weighing ceremony, I wanted to make sure he was well".

"Friend?" the girl muttered to herself, "Harry never mentioned you" she then stated, "and I suppose its only a coincidence that you're in a competition with Harry?"

"If I didn't know better I would say you were paranoid" Fleur remarked tightly, "but if you are worried for Harry then you have nothing to fear from me, I do not wish to cause him trouble".

"Why should I believe you? You were just snooping on our conversation" the curly haired student replied, the sternness in her voice a constant presence.

A flicker of amusement flashed across the Veela's face, the girl in front of her held a backbone, that was obvious, what she didn't possess was subtlety. "I wasn't the one to put a tracking charm on my friend" Fleur answered coolly, savouring the mixture of shock and guilt that ran through the girl's eyes.

"How did you know?" she questioned.

"I didn't" the Veela told the brunette, "but you seem quite adamant about doing so".

"I..." the girl began before the fight seemed to leave her, her shoulder falling, "I was worried".

"As am I" Fleur told her, a touch of sympathy escaping through her tone, "that is why I must see him, instead of bickering out here, you are welcome to join me".

"No, Madam Pomfrey said we weren't allowed in" the girl said in a downcast manner.

"You're pretty" the ginger boy stated dreamily as he looked at the blonde Witch.

The boy's companion shot him a judgmental stare before shaking her head, "oh Ronald" she muttered.

"This Madam Pomfrey won't even know I was there" Fleur said confidently.

The girl frowned deeply though she offered no retort or doubt, instead she moved towards the ginger boy and guided him by the arm away from the Veela. "My name is Hermione Granger, and my idiot of a friend here is Ron. If you come out of there alive I hope we can talk again".

The Veela offered Hermione an appreciative nod, she could see that her friend wasn't able to function clearly with Fleur's magic interfering with his mind, and rather than throw abuse at Fleur the curly haired witch was choosing to guide her friend away. If only, in Fleur's opinion, to stop him making a bigger ass out of himself.

* * *

The creak of the large wooden door sent chills through Fleur's spine as she entered the medical wing. What greeted the French Witch's eyes were rows upon rows of white beds, all of them possessing a simple beside cabinet with a pot of flowers adorning the surface. To the end of the large room was a walled in office area, windows poking through the stone bricks though for now they were covered in a deep blue curtain. In the left low of beds was single deviation in the orderly columns, several privacy curtains stopping Fleur from seeing the occupant, even though she knew it could only be the young wizard she sought.

As Fleur walked cautiously over to the warded bed her mind went back to a time when she and her sister tried desperately to sneak downstairs for midnight snacks, the memory bringing a smile to the Veela's face, even as a sizzling sound softly penetrated the periphery of her hearing. With a frown the Veela looked about for the source of the disturbing noise, intermittent gaps breaking through the burning sound, yet when she couldn't find it Fleur was forced to continue onwards, her movement now even more wary.

Reaching the privacy curtains, Fleur pushed her way through a break in the fabric, aware of how close she was to the office now. Within the curtained confines Fleur found herself staring at the source of the earlier disturbance.

Harry lay on the lone bed, much of his uniform had been removed leaving him only in his school trousers and shirt, the first few top buttons having been undone, his sleeves rolled up in a frantic fashion. The Wizard's skin was as pale as marble and when the Fleur looked to his face she saw his eyelids squeezed firmly together, almost in a pained way, though the cause of it could be partially explained by the bird perched nearby.

Sat on wooden stand, its sharp claws digging firmly into the frame, a bird with bright red feathers was leaning over the wizard, a slow drop of tears pouring from its eyes landing on Harry's right arm. The arm itself was a ghastly sight for Fleur to look at, and for a moment she felt the strong notion to look away and throw up the contents of her bowels. The skin that covered the young Wizard's arm was a gruesome shade of blacks and greys, the smell of decay and rotting seeping into the Veela's nostrils. A large circular hole lay at the centre of the disgusting sight, no skin covered this area, instead the meat and other vital parts of the Wizard's arm were exposed, all of which was miss-coloured. And from this wound veins of bright green branching away further along Harry's wrist before it was hidden by skin that hadn't be affected.

Fleur watched with morbid fascination as the bird's tears landed on the horrific wound, a small plume of smoke seeping forth with the accompanying whisper of hisses and fizzes. With each tear the wound pulsated, the veins of green flashing before subsiding, only to be brought back by another of the bird's tears. The Veela was tempted to shoo the creature away, believing it to be only making the situation worse. Yet when Fleur looked at the brightly feathered bird realisation struck, it wasn't a simple bird, no, the burning plumage, the beauty and sorrow in its eyes, this was Phoenix.

Veelas and Phoenixes were closely related in the magical world, both were beings of fire and beauty. Fleur had never meet a Phoenix before now, only stories and old pages in books had described the relation between her people and the mythical bird that sat crying onto Harry's wound, the reasoning for such a deed becoming clear to the Veela.

Phoenix tears were a potent healing substance, the list of what they couldn't treat or cure was vastly superseded by what they could, only a few drops were needed to treat any ailment or wound.

But it looked as though the injury Harry had sustained was beyond the Phoenix's tears. Fleur couldn't think of what had caused the mark on Harry's arm, the Veela annoyed that she had forgotten to bring her Mother's enchanted mirror with her.

What made the whole situation worse was Fleur felt helpless to do anything. Even an imbecile could see the scrunching of the Wizard's eyes was related to the dripping of the Phoenix tears, it wasn't pleasant for Harry and the overriding desire to help was destroyed by the fact Fleur didn't know what she could do or what was even going on. It was an agonising feeling.

And then guilt struck her, this is what she had been so desperate to see, a young boy riddled with a disfiguring scar on his arm. She hadn't meant for this to happen, the Veela had at first thought Harry was hiding some sort of secret, one that was more embarrassing than life threatening, and even though her intention to see Harry now had been out of an alien concern it did little to comfort the Veela thinking that at one point she had planned to use this secret to gain an advantage in the tournament. Never before had Fleur resented let alone hated herself for her actions, but she could see now why her own Mother had tried to advise caution, it had been done to prevent something like this from happening.

A strange fatigue set over the Veela as she mulled over her tumultuous feelings, spotting a chair beside Harry's bed she chose to sit down. Once again her eyes lingered over the sleeping wizard. Did his friends know about this? Were they being kept in the dark?

The rustle of fabric diverted Fleur's focus from Harry to the new sound, her blue eyes meeting a sharp pair of hazel eyes.

"What are you doing here young lady?" the owner of the hazel eyes questioned, her voice strict, her attire suiting that of a matron or nurse. Fleur guessed the Witch was Madam Pomfrey.

"I was visiti-" Fleur began only to be silenced by the older witch's interruption.

"Mister Potter is not currently taking visitors, you shouldn't be here" Madam Pomfrey cut in, a vein of anger running through her voice.

"I just wanted to know if he was well" Fleur replied weakly, her reasoning undoubtedly inappropriate for what she had done.

"That Miss Delacour, is none of your concern" a new voice added as a hand pulled away at the privacy curtain, the old Headmaster of Hogwarts walking through, his harsh expression a drastic change from the usual calmness he exuded.

"You expect me to ignore what I saw? You had to drag him here Professor Dumbledore, I had to be sure" the Veela remarked, her voice growing deeper as her emotions began to swell.

"Miss Delacour I admire your perseverance" Dumbledore began in a heavy tone, "but you are invading the privacy and welfare of one of my students, that is something I cannot abide by. I ask that you leave this instance or else I will have to bring this incident to your Headmistress".

Fleur's eyes thinned at the Headmaster's polite threat, she would not be deterred.

"No" she growled quietly, "you were the one who pointed me towards that damned book, I will not ignore this".

The old Professor's brow seemed to rise a fraction at what Fleur had said, as though he didn't believe the Veela would indeed seek the library book out. "So do you believe what was written?" he asked softly.

"I believe" Fleur stated boldy, "that there is something wrong with Harry, and that for some reason my magic is wanting me to find out what that is".

The half moon spectacles slid down the old professor's nose as he looked directly in the Veela's eyes, "and you see that as a good enough reason to go against what I have asked of you?"

The gaze Dumbledore gave to the young Veela was one of challenge, he was trying to push her, but into what Fleur had no clue. However she was intent on finding the cause of Harry's infliction, whether out of the drive from her empathy or due to her own, growing concern, she knew not.

"It is my reason, take it as you will" Fleur remarked, her words closed off and biting, but they were her own.

A deep sigh emanated from the school Headmaster as he brought a single hand up to rub his weathered brow, his expression hidden from the Veela's sight. All the while the Matron looked critically at the sitting Beauxbaton student.

"Poppy, you may leave us" Dumbledore said after a short break filled with silence, his hand falling to his side, any hint of frustration, anger or any other emotion that Fleur would have expected was no where to be seen. The older witch looked at the Headmaster as though he had sprouted a second head, yet when his patient eyes fell on the still present healer she acquiesced in the most reluctant of terms, the privacy curtains being thrown ajar as she stormed away.

Fleur's eyes were still wide when Dumbledore's focus returned to her, the Veela partially shocked that her confrontational approach had actually worked.

"Miss Delacour I will tell you now that there are very few people that I have met that are as stubborn as you" the Headmaster said as he drew his wand, the wooden tool being flicked about absently. A few moments later a second chair was summoned from another part of the medical wing, "what I disclose to you is not out of trust or belief that you deserve to know what has occurred to Mister Potter".

"So why tell me?" Fleur questioned, her voice faint, aware that her interruption could very well change Dumbledore's mind.

"Magic works in mysterious ways Miss Delacour" Dumbledore answered in a way that sounded practised as he sat beside the Veela, "I believe this new ability of yours is far from fully discovered, I wish to utilise it".

A faint frown formed on Fleur's face, she didn't like the sound of being some test subject.

"Ah, I see the look on your face" Dumbledore noted absent-mindedly, "it would only be for the betterment of your newly found friend, and only if it is safe for yourself. Though, I can hardly ask you to agree to such a thing without a little insight".

The Veela nodded in a guarded manner, her eyes drifting over to the resting boy in the bed.

"Now where does this tale begin" Dumbledore muttered to himself as he stroked his white beard calmly, "I believe just under two years ago is where I shall start".

* * *

"Mister Potter's problem occurred near the end of his second year of Hogwarts" the old professor said as he sat at the foot of Harry's bed, looking just above Fleur, who herself was at an angle, half looking at the bed and the Headmaster himself.

"The school had been faced with a spate of attacks which left the victims paralysed, one of theses victims included was a friend of Mister Potter, Hermione Granger" the Professor stated, his voice quiet yet left the Veela reeling to hear what he was saying, he held experience in tell stories that much could be said.

"I met her before coming here" Fleur added.

A twitch passed through the Headmaster's furred mouth, a flicker of smile emerging, "a smart Witch, and one whose opinion is rarely left unheard, but I digress. Hogwarts had faced a similar series of attacks in the past and I believed the culprit had been sufficiently dealt with in the end. I was proven wrong in the harshest of ways. The school board saw fit for my removal, along with the grounds keeper Hagrid. After my departure I was kept informed of what was occurring at Hogwarts by my colleagues, however this could not compensate for my absence".

"Why, what happened?" Fleur questioned.

"Mister Potter and his friend Mister Weasley chose to take matters into their own hands" Dumbledore replied, the barest hint of regret simmering in his words, "Mister Potter had discovered the entrance to the attacker's lair and he possessed the means to open it".

"Who was the one attacking the students, why were they even able to do such a thing?" the Veela asked, confused as to why anyone or anything could run so freely within a school, especially one containing magic.

"The answer to that question is not as easy to explain as you may think Miss Delacour" the Professor stated, allowing the French student to interrupt freely. "The creature in question was a Basilisk, their stare would usually kill a wizard, however my students had the fortune of only seeing its eyes through reflection or in a certain case, through a ghost. But the Basilisk wasn't acting alone, it had a master".

"Who?" Fleur pushed, her interest growing with every passing moment.

"Patience Miss Delacour, it is a good trait to possess" Dumbledore advised calmly.

The Blonde Veela closed her mouth and allowed the Professor to continue, repressing the small lump of indignation that formed at the old man's comment with ease.

"The entrance to the Basilisk's lair held a certain lock, or perhaps requirement would be the better phrase" the Headmaster stated, returning to his previous method of storytelling, "only those gifted in the tongue of a snake could enter, easy for a Basilisk, or a Parseltongue. I was certainly not surprised to find out that Mister Potter possessed such an ability".

"He's a Parseltongue, isn't that a sign of a dark wizard?" Fleur said, the ability was a rare one, the Veela had never met a wizard able to speak to snakes before.

"I wouldn't say as such Miss Delacour, true there are an exceeding amount of dark wizards who held the trait, however in my experience the reason for a wizard falling to the dark isn't the ability to talk to a subspecies of reptile" Dumbledore remarked, "but we are going off topic again, within the Basilisk's lair Mister Potter encountered the creature's master, the ghost of Lord Voldemort, he had possessed another student and he was using her to take action against the school".

"Ghost?" Fleur enquired, noting the hesitancy the Headmaster used.

"A poor word, in truth I do not know what he was, but he wasn't a ghost in the traditionally sense, spectre, shadow, remnant. I could go on, but alas I simply do not know" Dumbledore answered plainly, "but, whatever it was, it was feeding from the student he had taken, if Mister Potter hadn't intervened Lord Voldemort may well have returned that night".

"I'm guessing Harry fought the Basilisk?" Fleur asked, the pieces slowly locking into place as she looked again at Harry's afflicted arm,

"Indeed" Dumbledore sighed in a resigned fashion, his eyes flickering over to the vigilant Phoenix whose tears still fell from its eyes, "my companion Fawkes aided Mister Potter as best he could, even going so far as to gift him Godric Gryffindor's sword so that he could defeat the beast".

"But?" Fleur said, sensing that the word was appropriate as the Headmaster's face fell into a depressing darkness.

"However, as Mister Potter killed the Basilisk it took its own revenge, its teeth creating that mark you see now" Dumbledore explained, "even then Mister Potter continued to fight, he managed to free the student who had been Voldemort's vessel using the Basilisk's teeth. Only after the student had regained consciousness did Fawkes notice Mister Potter's wound. Under normal circumstances Phoenix tears have been found to neutralise the venom that resides within a Basilisk, but Fawkes was unable to fully heal Mister Potter".

"What do you mean, what happened to Harry if the venom wasn't neutralised?" Fleur questioned, her eyes growing in concern for the unconscious wizard she sat beside. Basilisk venom was a lethal, and painful substance, Harry shouldn't be alive.

"The inner workings escape me Miss Delacour so I shall tell you in a manner that I understand" Dumbledore explained, "by the time Fawkes had begun his attempts to heal Mister Potter, the venom had already found its way into Mister Potter's body. Madam Pomfrey and the school's resident Potion Master Serveus Snape tells me that Basilisk venom holds the ability to alter a victim's body so that it replicates within the body, though this is rarely seen as the victim dies took quickly for the changes to take effect".

"So how do they know about this effec… oh" Fleur faltered as the dot joined, this finding had come from the very person who was sleeping besides her.

"The only silver lining seems to be that Phoenix tears holds the venom at bay, diluting its potency and allowing Mister Potter to continue living, however there are…. side effects" Dumbledore continued before falling silent, his face looking haggard and tired, his advanced age showing once again.

"Side effects, do you mean like how he collapsed?" Fleur asked as the memories of the young wizard falling resurfaced.

"In part yes" Dumbledore replied, "disturbing the wound has in the past has left Mister Potter in this state, do not fear, he will recover he just needs time. There are more problems, the obvious do not need stating I hope?"

Fleur nodded as she looked back at the young wizard, his pale skin, the coughing, his general state of looking unwell. The Veela shook her head slightly, not looking, he was unwell.

"He suffers pains from time to time" the Professor continued, his own voice sounding uncomfortable and raw, "he hides it, but an old man like myself have quite the deft eye, when he thinks no one notices he tries to sit or lean, moving is not a comfortable activity for him".

"So… so what happened after that, I mean after the whole affair?" Fleur questioned.

"It was decided, for a variety of reasons that Mister Potter would be withdrawn from his classes with his fellow students" the Headmaster answered after he sighed again, "we experimented greatly on how he could be taught his yearly curriculum and how best we could treat his condition".

"I assume there has been no cure?" the Veela stated, though she already knew the answer from the resigned expression that the Professor held.

"None that we have found" Dumbledore said, his eyes falling to the ground, "we have to treat Mister Potter with the utmost care, the venom still playing havoc with his body and so time must be given for rest and recuperation".

The next question that was poised to lash out from the Veela was restrained by the barest of concerns of how blunt she would be, this however fell away quickly with the calm expression Dumbledore held, inviting her to speak.

"Is he dying?"

"No" Dumbledore replied sharply, "but his quality of life is poor. At the moment the only relief Mister Potter holds is from Fawkes".

Fleur nodded in understanding, a small amount of relief seeping into her at the Professor's answer. Sparing a glance, the Veela looked over to the diligent bird, whose tears were still steadily dropping onto the Harry's exposed wrist.

"He looks sad, why is that?" Fleur then questioned, her words soft as she tried to understand the bird's dire expression.

"Ever since the two have met, Fawkes has taken quite a liking to Mister Potter" Dumbledore replied as he gave a kind smile to the phoenix, "his sadness, I believe, comes from being unable to aid Mister Potter further".

"He thinks he failed" Fleur muttered as she gave the phoenix a pitying look, "but he tried his hardest no?"

"I believe so, my companion cares as deeply for the students of this school as I do Miss Delacour, his failure is mine as well" Professor Dumbledore lamented, "The pain that Mister Potter must now endure is down to my negligence as Headmaster".

The Veela remained silent as her pale blue eyes inspected the old Professor, in her mind the wizard was right, it had been his fault, he held a duty of care and he had failed to uphold it. The regret he showed however dampened some of Fleur's judgment, she didn't know the man well, but the Veela could see that Dumbledore had never wished for this to occur.

"It… isn't… your… fault" a ragged voice called out, irritation lining every word.

Fleur jumped as the boy lying on the clean bed sat up, his unmarked arm moving up to wipe away at his face. Fawkes too looked surprised by Harry's sudden revival, the Phoenix taking flight and choosing to circle around the bed.

"Good of you to join us Mister Potter" Dumbledore greeted warmly, his previous gloom having disappeared in an instant.

Harry's hand fell away, revealing a dark eyed expression as he glowered at the Headmaster before his stare turned to the seated Veela, his emerald eyes growing a touch softer as their eyes met.

"Fleur why are you… wait, Professor you didn't?" Harry half questioned, half accused, his voice still coarse.

"Allow me to explain Harry" Dumbledore started before he paused as though expecting the younger wizard to interrupt. When Harry didn't and only offered a withering stare, Fleur offered both wizards a sheepish smile, she felt as though she was intruding. Fawkes chose at this moment to land, specifically on her shoulder. The Veela eyed the magical bird carefully, keenly aware of their ability to set themselves ablaze. Fleur was fireproof, however her silk uniform wasn't. Regardless of the the French student's reservation, Fawkes showed no such emotion, instead choosing to rub his head softly against Fleur's cheek

"Before I begin" The old Headmaster said as he winked at Fleur with a knowing expression, all the while pulling a small package from his pocket, and offering it to both students, "would anyone care for a jelly baby?"

* * *

**A/N:**

**There we are, the reveal.**

**Literally everyone guessed it but hey, it wasn't supposed to be the biggest revelation of the story. **

**On to other matters, upload timing, it ain't great. I'm trying to streamline the process and I've got a couple of days off so I'm planning to use them to play catch up with this story and my other fic, if you're wondering why there's a big delay between chapters its due to alternating uploads with my other story.**

**Back to the story itself, I'm not going to bash Ron or Hermione, or Dumbledore, or... yeah basically anyone. It's a trope with HP fics that I've seen, and while I don't necessarily think its bad, its just not something I want to explore with this fic in particular. In my mind I'm trying to make everyone flawed but well meaning, feels a bit better in my view. Though to each their own.**

**Anyway I've prattled on long enough, bye all!**


	7. Chapter 7

The Veela looked sheepishly over to the pale faced wizard who sat on the hospital bed with a scowl.

The last half hour had been anything but pleasant. Dumbledore had done as he promised and regaled Harry with the events that had led up to the situation they were now in, only this didn't seem to placate the recently awakened Harry.

"You went against your word Dumbledore" Harry grumbled, his eyebrows crossing in a way that sent made his features harden.

"Harry, you must understand my reason for doing this" the Headmaster stated calmly, "Miss Delacour has displayed a truly unique ability, one rare for even a Veela. I believe she could help you with your condition".

"But you could have waited until I woke up, why were you so eager to tell Fleur without asking me?" the younger wizard questioned.

"Ah" the older man faltered ever so slightly, "I believe that in my wish to see you rid of your ailment I overlooked your previous wish. All I can ask is that you forgive this senile wizard and his bumbling nature".

The frown didn't lighten on Harry's face as he and the Veela listened to Dumbledore's words. Fleur for her part thought the old professor sincere, especially considering how much she had had to push to gain the knowledge she now held.

Eventually the venom-ridden wizard sighed, his head falling as he broke his gaze at the Hogwarts Headmaster, "fine, I suppose it doesn't matter anyway" he muttered.

"Harry" Fleur said, only for the emerald eye wizard to look up at her, the intensity of his stare silencing the Veela at once.

"You won't tell anyone" Harry stated, it wasn't a plea, but neither did it feel like an oppressive order. Yet Fleur felt compelled to agree with what the wizard was telling her, it was his secret after all.

"I would never" the Veela replied quietly.

"So what do you think Fleur can do Professor? Can she get rid of the poison?" Harry asked as his head turned to looked at the bearded man, the emotion in his emerald eyes fading away, his posture slouching slightly. The shift in stature threw the Veela off slightly, the young wizard now looking diminished and tired.

"I couldn't promise you such a feat Harry" Dumbledore replied with a sympathetic eye, "my knowledge of Miss Delacour's magic is not as great as I would like it to be. She is an Empath, she can feel the emotions of others, though from what Miss Delacour has displayed thus far it hasn't fully developed yet".

"I haven't felt any emotions" Fleur added, earning the attention of both wizards, "I...I have only felt compelled to find found out what was wrong with you Harry, my intentions were never...". At that Dumbledore's half moon spectacles shone a deeply critical glare making the Veela rethink what she was going to say. "I had no wish to make you uncomfortable or hurt you in anyway".

"With time I believe Miss Delacour's ability will grow, but for now pushing for a result may only harm our guest" Dumbledore expressed patiently, "Miss Delacour I ask that you consider aiding Mister Potter when your Veela magic had developed further".

Fleur nodded numbly, full aware of the younger wizard watching her, it wasn't like she could say no.

"Then I think I shall take my leave, no doubt you would like to discuss amongst yourselves without my presence" the old Headmaster stated, the twinkle in his eyes returning mischievously. Before Fleur or Harry could make any form of comment Dumbledore had already risen from his summoned stool and parted the privacy curtain. The Veela was tempted to follow in the Headmaster's wake, the feeling of being out of place rising within Fleur with every second she remained seated.

However when Fleur turned to look back at Harry the sensation slid away. The young wizard's complexion had deteriorated further, the bright colours that were expressed in his eyes had vanished and his skin looked cold and worn. Guilt formed like a sinking stone in the Veela's chest, her earlier thoughts of leaving feeling traitorous after seeing Harry's frail appearance.

"Are you in pain, do you want me to get Madam Pomfrey?" Fleur asked Harry, her voice low and concerned.

"It'll pass" Harry replied, the rustic tone returning to his voice, "Madam Pomfrey can't do much for me anyway".

"Why is that?" the Veela questioned, confused by the wizard's response.

The young wizard grimaced for a split second before he focused his gaze at the French witch, "I'm already on everything that Madam Pomfrey can give me without breaking some sort of wizarding law, and the pain will pass in a bit, it's always like this when I wake up".

"Oh" Fleur muttered, as much as she wanted to help the suffering wizard there was little that she could actually do to aid him,

"So what's it like to be an Empath?" Harry then asked, the sense the young wizard desired to change subject was obvious but Fleur wasn't going to ignore such a wanted shift in conversation.

"I only learnt about it yesterday" the Veela conceded, "and as Dumbledore said, it hasn't really begun to affect me yet. I admit that I wasn't comfortable with the focus I placed on you, I'm sorry if it upset you in anyway, I had no control over it".

"To be truthful it was more annoying than anything else" Harry answered with a nervous smile, "I thought it was bit weird how you wanted to be my friend as soon as we had both been announced as champions, part of me wondered if you were trying to pull my leg or something, to throw me off".

"I wasn't lying to you about wanting to be your friend Harry" Fleur retorted, her voice more enthused than it had been for the last hour, "you seem nicer than the other boys I've met in this cold country, it would be a shame for you to ruin that assumption".

"I didn't mean… no Fleur I..." the young wizard stammered, the smallest amount of colour returning to his cheeks as he spoke.

Fleur watch with mirthful eyes as Harry worked himself up over his small blunder, "calm down Harry I was pulling your leg, I know you didn't mean it".

"Are you like this with all your friends?" Harry said, his face still hot from the Veela's teasing.

"Only the ones I like" Fleur replied with a smile. Though at the mention of word, Fleur recalled the two students who had been standing at the door to the hospital wing.

"Before I came in here there were two students standing at the door, they said they were your friends. I thought you weren't on good terms with them?" Fleur questioned, noticing the small frown emerge on the wizard's face.

"One of them was ginger and the other had really curly hair?" Harry asked simply, as though he had been faced with this sort of question before.

Fleur nodded, slightly unnerved by how accurate the young wizard was being.

"I guess I wasn't telling you the whole truth about my friends" Harry muttered with a small amount of guilt, "they err… they don't know about me being bitten by the Basilisk, and because I'm not in their lessons anymore they got suspicious. So when they found out I was taking part in the Tournament it seemed like too much of a coincidence. I don't blame them really".

"Why haven't you told them, Hermione seemed very worried" Fleur pointed out, though she wasn't about to scold the boy about being a bad friend she wasn't above being curious of Harry's reasoning.

"So that they wouldn't have to worry" Harry explained with a serious tone, "I don't want them to get upset or scared, I'd rather they just get on with their lives than be concerned for me".

"It doesn't look like they are getting on with their lives, Hermione put a tracking charm on you" the Veela stated before she sat forward, "Harry if I was able to find out what was wrong with you then surely they will. Don't you think they would prefer to hear it from you rather than their headmaster?"

"No" Harry challenged, a small amount of life returning to the small wizard, "Fleur I don't want them to know alright? I'd prefer them to be suspicious of me than to know the actual truth".

Fleur cocked an eyebrow at Harry's determined face, it was clear he cared for his friends but she couldn't understand his desire to leave his friends in the dark.

"They aren't blind Harry, they can tell something is wrong" Fleur argued before her tone softened, "everyone can see you are in pain, wouldn't it be better to share it with someone?"

"I shared it with you, didn't I?" Harry said rhetorically, his cheek annoying Fleur somewhat.

"Not by choice" the Veela muttered, though her line of thought was disrupted by the young wizard's grunts as he moved away from his place on the hospital bed and stood up, his movement slow and stilted.

Fawkes, who had been watching the exchange with intelligent eyes took flight, circling Harry several times before landing on his shoulder. Fleur also stood up, worried that the young wizard would just collapse again.

"Don't you think it would be better to stay and rest?" Fleur asked as the young wizard made his way towards the split in the privacy curtain, "I'm sure Madam Pomfrey would tell you as much".

"If I followed Madam Pomfrey's advice I wouldn't leave my bed" Harry replied flippantly before he stopped and looked at the perched Phoenix, "come on Fawkes I'll be fine, you can go".

A beautiful shrill emanated from the magical creature's beck, the sound enrapturing and sorrowful to Fleur's ears. Yet despite Fawkes's verbal refusal, the Phoenix removed himself from Harry's shoulder and returned to his wooden perch by the bed. Fleur had half a mind to stun the rebellious wizard and return him to his bed, he looked in no state to be walking around after just fainting, yet the heavy stone in her chest stopped her from moving, Fleur felt like she had already interfered with Harry's life enough as it was.

To quell the civil unrest between her head and her heart, the Veela pulled her wand out and followed Harry past the white curtains. The Veela then quickly pointed her Rosewood wand at the departing wizard, muttering quickly in her native tongue. The results were instantaneous as she felt a warm pulse run from her wand up her arm. Hermione may have placed the charm on Harry, but that didn't mean Fleur couldn't tag along.

* * *

Fleur had rarely known exhaustion. A combination of a carefree and peaceful life meant the Veela had never felt the energy draining feeling before, but as the French student collapsed on her bed she felt as though the sensation had been with her her whole life. A clumsy hand reached out to the back of Fleur's head, undoing the hairband and allowing the platinum gold to unravel, her silky blue hat already discarded in the corner of her room. With the same hand, the Veela ran her hand through the soft strands, the faintest of frowns emerging as she found a single knot.

Groaning quietly as she sat up again, Fleur looked about for her hairbrush, the idea of using magic falling through her mind. Soon enough Fleur's eyes fell on the simple instrument, and the battle to stand up begun.

Eventually Fleur managed to will herself upward long enough to grab her brush and settle back on her bed, the act not as terrifying as the fatigued Veela had first thought.

The first stroke paved way for more, the simple act slowly releasing the balls of tension that had built up in her ligaments. A soft sigh passed Fleur's lips as she sat the brush down on her bedside cabinet, only for a yawn to follow, though the idea of getting up to disrobe wasn't that attractive of a prospect for Fleur, not after finding such a comfortable position to sit in.

Even with hindsight Fleur had no idea that the day's events would leave her so tired, it wasn't physical but rather mentally exhaustion, something her Mother had always said was the more lasting than the former.

But learning the truth behind Harry's secret had left Fleur feeling more than fatigued, she felt awful. The self-hatred still ran strong within the Veela, she had no right to know what she now knew especially as she had planned to blackmail the poor wizard. Thankfully Harry and Professor Dumbledore were unaware of Fleur's previous plan, and it would forever remain in the past, she held no desire what so ever to bring it up ever again.

For now Fleur would focus on the Tournament she had only a few days ago been so enthused about, but now that dream was tainted somewhat, the magic had been sucked out of it now. Before the idea of an underage wizard preforming in the Tri-wizard Tournament was something that would have made Fleur laugh at for the sheer imagery it evoked, it was now painfully different.

Harry was strong, he had to be to endure Basilisk venom coursing through his veins. Even the thought of the bite mark on his arm was revolting for Fleur to think about. But Harry would have to contend with the Tournament and the effects of the Basilisk venom, such a thought was not a warm one for Fleur to think about, if anything it was worrying to think about.

A loud knock on Fleur's door brought the Veela out of her thoughts and back into reality.

There was only one person who would have the audacity to knock on her door, and that was Madame Maxime. Fleur sighed in annoyance as she realised she would have to let the half-giantess in.

"_Come in"_ Fleur groaned in French, her speech slurred slightly.

However what came through the ornate door wasn't the Beauxbaton Headmistress, instead a blur of dark brown and silk blue came racing through, tackling the Veela onto her back on her bed. Stunned by such an action, Fleur only responded when she heard a high pitch giggled emerge from her attacker, the sound a familiar one causing the Veela to roll her eyes.

"_Melanie, get off of me"_ Fleur ordered as her friend continued to hold onto her for dear life.

"_Surprise!"_ the brunette chuckled, her voice muffled, a side effect of her burying her head into Fleur's hair.

"_I'll set fire to you, will that get you to let go?_" Fleur asked, knowing what the answer would be.

The pair of hands that were clamped at her sides were released, the weight pinning Fleur to her bed was removed as her friend stood up.

"_Nice to see you too Fleur"_ Melanie sulked, her hands on her waist as she looked down at Fleur.

"_What are you doing here? I don't remember seeing you get on the carriage"_ Fleur questioned, knowing that Maxime had seemingly singled her out and left all her friends behind at Beauxbaton.

A sheepish smile appeared on the Witch's face, _"well you see… I didn't get on the carriage"_ Melanie muttered weakly, _"I umm… overslept"._

_"Oh?"_ Fleur said, unsurprised by Melanie's response, she could sleep through anything.

_"Don't be so rude Fleur!"_ Melanie exclaimed, her face genuinely depicting a hurtful appearance.

_"So how did you get here Sleepyhead?"_ Fleur asked, ignoring her friend's act.

_"Portkey"_ Melanie replied, the pain leaving her expression as soon as she realised Fleur wasn't buy her ruse, _"but don't think I haven't heard Fleur, you're our champion"._

Fleur braced herself for what was to come.

_"I'm so proud Fleur"_ the Witch gushed with such enthusiasm that made Fleur want to gag, _"you've wanted this for so long, you haven't stop talking about this since it was announced at the beginning of the year"._

_"I am aware Melanie, I was there"_ Fleur pointed out.

_"Oh no missy"_ Melanie interrupted with a waggle of her finger, silencing the Veela, _"if I've had to get the brunt of it at Beauxbaton, you're getting it now"._

_"Or you could leave, here I'll help you"_ Fleur stated, her wand coming out and pointing menacingly at the offending Witch.

The chocolate brown eyes of Melanie grew larger at the sight of Fleur's wand, she had been on the receiving end of one of Fleur's curses before and she knew what it felt like with agonising detail.

_"OK you win Fleur"_ Melanie said in a panicked fashion, her hands raised in defeat, _"what's got your hair in a twist? You're not usually this bitchy"._

_"I'm never bitchy"_ Fleur denied with a frown.

_"Yes you are, you're just too stuck up to admit it"_ Melanie countered with an innocent smile, the Witch quickly moving over to sit besides the Veela.

Fleur took a moment to ponder her friend's words. The seemingly harsh words they spoke between each other wasn't anything new, rather it was a way for them to have fun at each other's expense, though Melanie had a way of hitting a bit too close to home sometimes.

_"So come on, what gives, why are you so wound up?"_ Melanie asked as she tapped the Veela's shoulder with her own.

_"It's just the Tournament Melanie"_ Fleur lied, _"I'm not used to surprises, especially ones that could kill me"._

_"Pfft, like a contest would kill you Fleur"_ Melanie replied, rolling her eyes at the Veela's comment, _"you'll do fine, you're at the top of most classes Fleur, stop fretting"._

Only Fleur wasn't worried by the Tournament, neither Madame Maxime or Professor Dumbledore would allow for the Tournament to go ahead if there was a legitimate chance of death occurring. No, it was the fact an underage, ill student was to take part, that was what was worrying Fleur, and the more she thought about it only made it worse because she could think of no way to help him.

_"Hey remember that time you taught me the Reductor curse?"_ Melanie continued, not noticing her friend's silence, _"I swear you were showing off when you did it first time"._

Fleur looked at Melanie with a growing realisation

_"Of course I remember, you nearly destroyed Beauxbaton"_ the Veela smiled, a wonderful thought growing in the back of her mind. Fleur didn't know what the Tournament task were going to be, but she could practice, and she could practice with Harry, maybe teach him a few spells. It wouldn't make up for his lack of experience, but the idea in it of itself set some of the Veela's anxiety to ease.

_"They fixed the classroom in the end"_ Melanie pointed out, _"but that's not what I meant, you're talented Fleur, you'll win this Tournament without breaking a sweat"._

_"I'll take your word for it Melanie, even if I know you're wrong"_ Fleur replied calmly, though she felt a better knowing she had at least one friend to talk to during her stay at Hogwarts, even if that friend was Melanie.

_"Anyway, why don't we get something to eat, I'm starving"_ the Brunette commented as she stood up, practically dragging the Veela as she went, _"you can tell me all about what I've missed"._

Fleur had the distinct impression that she held no say over what was going to happen next.

* * *

"_Miss Delacour, I'm under the impression you aren't trying"_ Julien drawled as he inspected his nails with a lazy eye, his use of the French tongue slurred and dreadful.

Fleur would have quite happily replied with a long string of curses that would have appalled her Mother, but her instructor's full body binding curse made it hard for her to breathe let alone talk.

_"Now Miss Delacour we shall try again"_ the French man instructed, _"please do pay attention this time, I do not waste my time in this distasteful country for your enjoyment"._ With a flick of his wand the curse was released and Fleur was able to suck in a desperate breath, yet she knew she couldn't remain on the floor. Shakily the Veela rose, sweat dripping down her face.

Julien's training regime had changed, Madame Maxime wasn't able to attend all of Fleur's training sessions and Julien felt it necessary to move onto another task, Fleur was frustrated beyond belief that she hadn't succeeded in her first exercise, if only because of the condescending looks the slimy toad of an instructor gave her made Fleur want to burn him alive.

For now they were training under the rules of a traditional duel, and with the amount of times they were resetting, Fleur was beginning to think her spine would rebel and pop of her back the next time she bowed.

Julien was the one who began the duel, a shining red bolt shooting its way towards Fleur, only for the Veela to catch it upon her wand and whisk it to the side. The Veela responded instantly, bright pink sparks dazzling the older wizard as he side stepped the spell, a look of consideration passing his features before he turned and retaliated with several different spells, each one a blur as Fleur either dodged or blocked.

_"Come now Fleur, you cannot win by dancing about the battlefield"_ Julien called out after his latest plethora of spells narrowly avoided hitting the Veela's body.

The fire in her veins growled with infuriation at the mockery she was being faced with, but Fleur couldn't allow herself to become tempted by her Veela magicks, they were dangerous and she didn't know whether she could reign them in if they were allowed to wreck havoc.

"_Bombarda_" Fleur said viciously as she pointed her wand at the lanky man, the shock in his eyes a delicious sight for the Veela to behold.

Julien managed to jump out of the way of Fleur's charm, falling a hairsbreadth away from the spell as it collided with the wall behind him, the carriage interior shaking and groaning as the exploding charm was absorbed with some measure of difficulty by the layers of spells and wards placed on the carriage.

_"Are you mad woman?!"_ Julien called out angrily, _"you are to use duelling spells, not charms meant for demolishing buildings!"_

_"I'm sorry Julien, it was as slip of the tongue"_ Fleur replied in a not so innocent manner, her smile fake yet convincing.

Her instructor however was less than amused, Julien whipped his wand about with a violent swish, a trio of fast moving bolts hurtling towards the Veela. Fleur had no time to react to Julien's unblinking counter-attack, the wizard's spell slamming into her stomach. Any cry of pain that Fleur wanted to give out was stolen as the breath left her lungs, leaving her pale faced and squinting in pain as she held her now badly bruised stomach, the after effects of Julien's magic sending shivers through the Veela.

Only when the pain had subsided to a manageable extent did Fleur open her eyes, which made her only back away in surprise as a stern faced Julien walked towards her with an uncomfortable energy. Fleur gulped nervously as her back hit the carriage wall, the greasy haired man still approaching. Soon enough all Fleur could smell was the overwhelming stink of Julien's scent and all she could see was his revolting face. Just as the Veela thought the disgusting man couldn't get any closer, he placed a hand on the wall near her head.

_"Miss Delacour"_ Julien muttered quietly, the way he said Fleur's name makingthe Veela cringe, _"your behaviour has been an annoying attribute of yours since we have met"._

_"What do you think you are doing?"_ Fleur questioned with barely contained rage, Julien's behaviour was beyond outrageous.

_"Setting the record straight"_ the Frenchman breathed, his voice sickening to make Fleur want to throw up.

_"First of all you will stop with this rebellious behaviour"_ Julien instructed, _"you will do as you are told and you will not question me, are we clear?"_

_"Why should I do anything you say?"_ Fleur replied, the temptation to set Julien's manhood alight growing with each passing moment.

A small object jabbed its way into the Veela's lower chest, the touch making Fleur look down at the intruding presence. When she saw Julien's wand pointed straight at her, Fleur realised that this action was the wizard's answer and her mouth went dry with fear.

_"I assume your silence means you understand?"_ Julien said rhetorically as he pulled his wand back slightly, the wizard catching the meaning behind Fleur's growing eyes, _"if you do as I say you won't be hurt little Veela, and you'll win the most prestigious tournament in the Wizarding World"._

_"Why are you doing this?"_ Fleur questioned behind gritted teeth.

_"Because your Headmistress is paying me quite a fortune to make sure you succeed, I intend to produce results"_ Julien replied with ease before he tilted his head, _"and because you need to be taught a lesson in humility"._

_"Go to hell"_ Fleur swore defiantly, only for a blinding hot swipe to be dealt to her cheek, a blistering pain erupted from where Julien had hit her.

The sound of a door opening and the telltale stomping gave Fleur a glimmer of hope as she watched her Headmistress enter the room. Madame Maxime gave a dismissive look at the situation at hand, Julien leaning over Fleur, her hand covering the area that had just been struck.

At that exact moment Fleur thought Maxime would retaliate against the instructor, but instead the half-giantess merely raised an eyebrow, as though she was curious and not enraged with what so clearly had occurred.

_"Julien I must take Fleur, the training session is finished for today"_ Maxime declared, her voice heavy, any hint of anger or outrage that Fleur had wanted to hear in her Headmistress's voice was painfully lacking.

The instructor nodded, his thin form moving away from the shocked Veela. Fleur shot both Julien and Maxime questioning gazes, why wasn't her Headmistress questioning what had happened, why wasn't she defending her?

_"Fleur come now"_ Maxime gestured, the half-giantess already beginning to move out of the training room. Julien gave Fleur a knowing look, which was all the Veela needed as she sped towards the closing door, anything was better than staying in the same room as that disgusting toad.

The Veela did as Maxime instructed and followed her closely, confused as to where the last few minutes had actually just occurred, though the sting of Julien's back hand provided enough proof that it had. Maxime slowly led Fleur through the winding carriage, past a few onlooking students, Fleur hiding her bruise with her hand without even knowing so. Even though she was partially dazed, Fleur held enough wit to notice when Maxime had led her out of the Beauxbaton carriage completely, the Veela's shoes becoming muddied on the wet Hogwarts soil.

_"Madame"_ Fleur called out as Maxime continued to move, the half-giantess aiming for the small shack near the edge of the looming dark forest.

_"What is it Fleur?"_ the Beauxbaton Headmistress questioned irritably.

Fleur flinched at the bite of Maxime's words, an action that did not go unnoticed by the half-giantess.

_"I am sorry Fleur, what is that matter?"_ Maxime questioned, her voice now more restrained as she moved closer to the Veela.

_"Why… why did you say nothing in the training room? You saw what Julien had done"_ Fleur questioned, confusion and pain running tandem through her voice as she spoke.

Maxime pursed her lips before she let a sigh escape, "you must understand Fleur, this tournament, it is of the utmost importance that you win it" Maxime explained, her features hardening as she spoke, "If you fail then you will not just be disappointing our school, but also our governors".

_"The governors, is that all you care about?"_ Fleur asked, outraged by Maxime's answer, _"you would allow Julien to beat me, just so you can get a shiny trophy? Is that all I am to you?"_

_"You are my student, and you will do as I say"_ Maxime replied stiffly, _"my job is on the line and I won't allow a stuck-up Veela to be my undoing, if this behaviour of your continues I will see fit to just expel you"._

Fleur began to shake with silent fury, she was not some show horse trained to be led, she was a Delacour, she was a Veela!

_"My parents will learn of this"_ Fleur vowed as she stared daggers into the half-giantess's face.

_"Your parents cannot do anything, and who would trust the word of some Veela over that of the Beauxbaton Headmistress and France's most renowned duellist?"_ Maxime questioned critically, her words stabbing sharply into the Veela.

Fleur was starstruck, her own Headmistress thought it acceptable for someone to beat her own students if it meant she would keep her job. So thrown off but such a revelation Fleur didn't hear what Maxime said next, all of sudden Fleur regretted putting her name in the Goblet of Fire.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Nothing witty to say really, I'm appreciating all of the reviews and such from you guys and as a small tidbit I will be making corrections when I've finished the story, so for now forgive me for the rough edges, I'll try and iron them out. Though I will point out I don't have a beta, I just write and edit by myself. (Please don't ask to be my beta reader, I don't want one thank you very much).**

**Though I want to add something with regards to this last section of this chapter, I'm kind of wary with what I am doing with Julien and Madame Maxime. I don't want to make it seem unrealistic (he says in a story about magic), but at the same time writing abusive elements can come off as either unrealistic or just bad. If you guys have any feedback that would be greatly appreciated.**

**See you all in a fortnight.**


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